A Destiny, A Warlock and a King: AU Series Ending
by bluespiritgal
Summary: SPOILERS! AU ending to Season 5 Final Episode. Can Merlin really accept Arthur's fate? My version of how I hoped the series might have ended. Give it a try, you just might like it :) Lots of bromance with a little adventure thrown in. No slash. Chapter 9 FINAL CHAP is now up. Story complete! Enjoy! And reviews would be greatly appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

**Destiny, a Warlock and a King**

**Okay, so like many, I wasn't exactly thrilled with the series ending, although the more I watched the last episode the more I loved and hated it at the same time. So here my take on the ending I would have liked to have seen. This is a short one shot (which may turn into a multi chap fic, not sure yet.)**

**Usual disclaimers: don't own Merlin, or the characters, wish I did, but fun playing with them anyway**

**Season 5, Episode 13 AU Ending...enjoy**

...

"Merlin, there is nothing you can do," Kilgarrah said.

The warlock struggled to hold Arthur upright, but the king, still dressed in the heavy armor and chain mail was dead weight in his arms. At Kilgarrah's words, he felt his world falling out from underneath him.

Merlin collapsed to the ground with Arhur's lifeless body falling with him. He clutched his friend desperately. Grief poured out of him. "I-I tried so hard. So hard. I'm sorry, Arthur. So sorry I failed you!"

"No, young warlock."

This couldn't couldn't be real. It couldn't be true! They had always made it out of tight situations before. Merlin, and his magic, no matter how bleak, how desperate the circumstance, had always been able to protect his friend. He looked up at the Great Dragon, begging him to take the words back but only saw sadness and sympathy in the large, pensive golden eyes.

"No." Merlin's grief was a physical, renting pain in his chest as if he could actually feel his heart being ripped in two. He just couldn't accept it. Arthur couldn't be dead, he just couldn't!

"I can't loose him! He's my friend."

"No man, no matter how great, can change their true destiny, no matter how much we may wish it, Merlin."

The warlock shook his head, tears running unchecked down his face.

"But we had a destiny _together_, two sides of the same coin. Together we were supposed unite Albion, bring peace. How can this happen now?"

"Perhaps Arthur's role in the future of Albion has already come to pass," The Great Dragon replied. "The witch Morganna is dead, Modred too, and the Five Kingdoms, under Arthur's reign, have slowly united against a common enemy, the Saxons."

Merlin clutched the limp, cold body of Arthur, burying his face into the neck of his King, his best friend. He shook his head in reply. Though what the dragon had said was true, that in the three years since Uther's death, the King had made great strides in trying to unite the kingdoms, Arthur still had so much he was still supposed to do yet, to live for. He had so many people who loved him, _needed _him.

Merlin's tears soaked Arthur's cold skin and ran down beneath his chain mail. The warlock's fingers dug deep, clutching his friend close, unable to imagine his life without him.

"Merlin," Kilgarrah said gently, hating to see the young warlock so utterly heart-broken. "There is nothing more you can do."

Suddenly Merlin became angry. He shook his head.

"No. I can't accept this."

With an anger and deviance the Great Dragon has seen in the warlock more than once, Merlin scrubbed his tears swiftly away with fingers. Merlin's jaw clenched tightly together before untangling his legs out from beneath Arthur's dead weight. He slid his arms under Arthur's armpits and around the king's torso and locked his wrist together.

With a guttural heave he struggled to his feet. Shaky and trembling limbs nearly folded with the weight of his burden. Without another word he started dragging Arthur towards the waters of Avalon.

"I'm not giving up on you prat!"

"Merlin. It's too late."

"No. Destiny be damned. I won't accept that this is over."

"What is done, is done, young warlock."

But Merlin ignored the Great Dragon and continued to drag Arthur's limp body into the water until he was knee deep. His foot slipped in the mud and he collapsed to his knees with Arthur on top of him, nearly sending them both under. Merlin gathered his friend tightly to his chest. Arthur's body was draped across his collapsed knees, his back against Merlin's chest, while the King's arms floated uselessly in the water. The blond head hung lifeless against Merlin's throat, is face waxen.

His eyes flashed gold and with a deep guttural cry, in a voice similar to that which was used to call forth the Great Dragon, Merlin summoned the Sidhe in the language of the ancent religion, his magic pouring out into the water, reaching deep into its depths.

For a moment nothing happened as Merlin hugged Arthur tightly to him.

Then the water stirred and started to shimmer in metallic, luminous green. From its depths dozen of tiny balls of light surfaced, hovering briefly above the water before quickly taking flight, darting around him in a frenzy of light.

Merlin's eyes flashed again, slowing down time, until he could see the Sidhe, the small, fairy like creatures in their true form.

Merlin held the King protectively to him as they zipped about.

"I need your help!"

They continued to flicker past him, around him, ignoring him. Merlin's head darted about trying to follow their rapid, movements.

"Please."

He didn't care if he had to beg, to plead. He would do anything to save Arthur. His magic continued to pour out of him in his grief, saturating the waters of Avalon.

The water in front of him glowed again and the winged beings fanned out and away as if to make room. The water churned and foamed and from the murkiness another being rose, almost human in size in comparrison to the Sidhe.

For a moment the being's brightness blinded him before it dimmed to reveal the face and upper figure of a woman, though none like Merlin had ever seen before. Her lower body seemed to be made up of the water itself, opaque and gleaming. Her hair was completely white and cascaded down her shoulders in a moving wave, becoming part of the water too. Her arms were thin, long and tapered to fingertips the seemed to end in mist.

Her face was etherial, her eyes large and wide set and were luminous without pupils. Instead the irises were the color a strange swirling blue. She stared coldly down at the warlock and the dead King.

"I am Airmetha of the Tuatha, sevant of the Triple Godess and gatekeeper of the waters of Avalon. Why do you call me forth from my depths, warlock?"

"Please you must help me," Merlin begged.

The being looked at the lifeless knight held protectively agaisnt the warlock. "The king's journey has already begun into Avalon."

"No!"

The spirit's face held an air of malevolence. "The Pendragon's fate was sealed when he chose to go against the Disir's warnings."

"It was I who warned Arthur against accepting magic into Camelot."

"You went against your own kind?"

"It thought I was protecting him against Modred, but the only thing I suceeded in doing was to seal his fate. This is all my fault. Please don't let it end this way."

"Magic will once more reign free, with or without the Pendragon."

"No! You are wrong. Without Arthur there will only more war and strife between the five kingdoms and beteeen those with magic and those without."

"You are a powerful warlock, more powerful than even Sigan. You could easily rule over the land."

Merlin vehemently shook his head. "I don't want that. I never wanted that. It was never my place to rule, but to serve my friend, my king, to be at his side, to protect him."

"A Pendragon? They have done nothing but bring death upon the land. Even the witch, born of Uther's blood, could not deny her thirst for power and revenge."

"Arthur is not his father, nor is he like his sister, Morganna. He is a _good _man, with a _good _heart. He destiny was to bring the lands of Albion together as one, not die here and now before he's even had to chance to finish what he has started."

"The Disir think otherwise. Magic has no place in the Pendragon's heart."

Merlin looked down at Arthur's pale face, so still. His throat tightened. "They are wrong. Arthur did accept my magic, accepted me, but even if he hadn't I would still serve him because I believe in him. I believe he will make a difference, bring about peace. I can't let him die now."

"It is too late."

"No, please! Above all, above everything, Arthur loves his people, has always cared about what happens to them And in his heart only wants to restore peace. Please, I will do anything."

"Anything?"

Melin nodded.

"The bonds of the Old Religion are ancient and strong. Arthur was born by such magic and has already forfieted his life. To restore such life, a life of equal sacrifice must be given in return."

"Then take mine."

"No Merlin," Kilgarrah interupted.

"Arthur's life has always been more important than mine. His people need him."

"And what of you?" The diety asked. "You, warlock, were born from the outcry and tears of all those persecuted in the Great Purge. To give up your life for the Pendragon king should not be offerd so lightly."

"Without Arthur, my magic has no meaning. My life, all that I am is because of him. He gave my magic a purpose. He gave _me _a home and a friendship like no other. If Arthur dies, I have no reason to go on." The tears fell. "He is my king, my friend, my other half."

The diety mouth twisted and Kilgarrah's eyes narrowed.

"Merlin. You must not do this."

Merlin refused to look at the Great Dragon, his eyes remaining focused on the gatekeeper instead. Acutely aware of the heaviness of Arthur's limp head against his chest and the coldness seeping into the king's body, he replied. "No Kilgarrah. If this is the only way, I gladly offer my life for his."

The quiet resolve in which the warlock spoke made the diety incline her head. "Very well, warlock."

Kilgarrah snorted a blast of hot air.

"No, Merlin."

"The chose is mine, Kilgarrah."

"Not this time, my friend."

The spirit looked at him as the Great Dragon reared its head.

"The Old Religion demands a life, but it will not be the warlock's," Kilgarrah declared.

Merlin looked up as the dragon stepped into the water, his head held high, eyes gleaming arrogantly.

"Well, this is a surprise indeed," Airmetha drawled.

"Hardly, I think," the dragon answerd cryptically.

The spirit sneered. "A dragon's magic is very ancient, unique."

"And more than enough to appease the Triple Goddess, I would think."

"Perhaps." But the gleam in her eyes told a different story.

"Kilgarrah, no!"

"Young warlock, do not look so troubled. You are not the only one with a destiny written long ago."

"What do you mean?"

The dragon smiled. "There is a reason you and are kin, Merlin, that we would meet and that by your hand I would be freed from my imprisonment. I have lived for more than a thousand years and I am tired, young warlock. My cycle of life is nearly complete. Yet even old and worn, my magic is far more ancient than yours."

"I did not bring you here to sacrifice yourself!"

The Great Dragon gazed fondly down at Merlin before moving forward.

The diety nodded and lifted her arms. A strange curtain of thick mist suddenly plummed up behind her, expanding quickly outward in great rolling waves until not even the sky, the nearby shore and even the waters of Avolon could be seen.

With another wave of her hand a vertical split appeared in the mist.

Merlin felt the Great Dragon's mind reaching to his. _Do not grieve so, Dragonlord. This is my desire, to return to the earth and the souls of my kin. I asked only one thing._

_Anything._

_Athusia. Take care of her._

_I will. _

Kilgarrah turned his massive head towards Merlin. He bowed, smiling. "It has been a privilege to have known you, young warlock."

And with that the Great Dragon opened its enormous wings and took flight. And with a sense of deja vu, like Lancelot stepping through the Callieach's veil, Merlin watched Kilgarrah gracefully soar through the opening.

As the dragon passed through, a blinding bright light followed. Then an enormous wave of water shot straight up, closing the space.

When Merlin lowered his arm he was alone in the shallow water with Arthur still draped across him.

His hand lowered to the king's face.

"Arthur?"

The king remained limp and still in his arms.

Merlin patted his cheek. "Arthur!"

Time seemed to come to a standstill as Merlin stared down at the pale, lifeless face before he saw it, a small, barely noticeable breath. Merlin curled his fingers into Arthur's hair, not even aware he was holding his own breath as he stared at his friend.

Arthur's head tipped slightly back as his chest expanded again.

A flood gate of emotion soared through Merlin. "That's it, Arthur, breath, just breath."

Another small breath was followed by another and gradually the mottly grey tinged skin pinkened and moments later Athur's eyes fluttered then slowly opened.

Tears were flowing down Merlin's cheeks again, but this time they weren't in sorrow. He tried to wipe them clumsily away with the sleeve of his shirt but they just kept coming back as Arthur continued to blink, then slowly focused on Merlin's face hovering over him.

"Merlin." Arthur's voice was barely above a breathy whisper but it the most joyous thing Merlin had ever heard.

The warlock's fingers curled around the side of Arthur's neck unable to even form the word, "Sire" for a few thick, strangled moments before Merlin's face was splitting into a wobbly grin.

Arthur's own mouth curved into a weak lopsided smile. "Why am I not surprised to see your face looming over me?"

"It's my job, remember."

Arthur frowned. "Is this a dream? Am I dead?"

"Hardly. You weigh a ton, you know."

"Trying to imply I'm fat again, _Mer_lin?"

Merlin sniffed, wiping the salt laden snot dripping embarrassing down from nose with his sleeve, eyes still red and puffy and leaking.

"Not at all, my Lord."

Arthur's arm lifted to cup the back of Merlin's neck, squeezing. Blue eyes locked upon blue, grateful, humble, tired. "You are a truly amazing, idiot, Merlin."

Merlin covered the King's arm with his own and squeezed back, eyes shimmering brightly as he saw Arthur's eyes twinkle with life before drifting tiredly shut in sleep.

The warlock tipped his head up the the sky. The clouds had parted and a stream of golden sun fell through. And just for a moment, against the silver lining, the rays took on the shape of a dragon.

"Thank you, Old Friend. Thank you."

...

**Reviews appreciated... :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay...so I don't exactly know how this will progress or even end, whether it will just be a few chaps or a longer fic, but here is the continuation of my AU. Hope you enjoy...**

**Usual disclaimers still apply...(oh and I apologize now for any mistakes I've made...I'm a lousy proof reader)**

**Chapter 2**

Merlin added wood to the small fire, then sat back on his haunches and stared at Arthur stretched out a few feet away still peacefully sleeping. For a while all he could do was watch the soft rise and fall of Arthur's chest as if still afraid it would cease once again and he would awaken from a hope filled dream.

But the steady inhale and exhale continued, and with it, a calming peace settled over Merlin. Arthur was alive. They had done it, skirted fate once again, and forever long that would be, Merlin would be grateful.

His thoughts automatically drifted to Kilgarrah and to the sacrifice he had made and despite his joy, his happiness in Arthur's survival, Merlin was saddened at the loss of yet another dear friend.

He honestly didn't know what he was going to do without the Great Dragon's presence anymore, his wisdom, his advice. For so long as he'd lived in Camelot, Kilgarrah had been such a pivotal part of his life: aggravating, infuriating, annoyingly cryptically, wise, comforting, strong. He had lived through a gamut of emotions with the ancient creature: awe, wonder, resentment, anger, gratitude, humility, friendship, sorrow.

And when Merlin had become a dragonlord, their souls had forever been linked. Their kinship and magic seemed to ebb and flow together, not gently at first, for Kilgarrah's hatred of Uther and the slaughter of his kind had left a rage in the ancient beast that had taken time to cool. But over the years, the symbiotic bond started between warlock and dragon had solidified into something no distance or time could separate as Merlin's dragonlord abilities grew.

It was difficult to explain when it even happened, but in Merlin's bleakest of times, he had always been able to sense a presence residing somewhere curled deep within him. In times of need, when doubts plagued him, when his own fears started to get the better of him, the presence would unfurl itself, rear its head and give Merlin a sense strength and hope, before receding back into the recesses of his magic.

He knew now that it had been Kilgarrah all along. It had been the bond Balinor had spoken of, the special kind of magic, the kinship only shared between a dragon and his lord. He wondered if the dragon had felt a similar feeling from Merlin. He hoped so, for this thought brought him solace.

Merlin added another stick to the fire. Unfortunately he had no food to prepare. Everything had been on the horses when they had bolted. Luckily Merlin somehow still had the water skin. He didn't even remember picking it up from the ground but was grateful for it. He had tried to hunt for berries, but had no luck, nor had his attempts to catch any fish off the shore of the lake had proved any better, so for now their bellies would just have to go hungry.

He looked up at the early morning light filtering through the trees and knew he should wake Arthur soon. They had a long journey home and he didn't want to stay in one place too long. Even with the battle won, there where sure to be Saxons as well bandits still in the area, both of which he preferred to avoid. But he would let Arthur rest a little longer.

Though his life had been restored, his wound healed, the King was still weak and would need time to recover fully.

Merlin too as he felt the exhaustion wash over him once again. He had hardly slept a wink in the last several days, his worry, his fear over Arthur's deteriorating condition and their safety as Merlin attempted to elude their enemies, combined with his own overwhelming emotional state after confessing his magic to Arthur was taking a toll on the warlock's reserves. He knew he needed to sleep, but it was a luxury he couldn't afford, not yet.

So, while Merlin kept vigil, he let Arthur rest and with only himself for company, the warlock's thoughts once more turned inward to the Great Dragon and his promise.

With a heavy heart the dragonlord knew he had failed the young white dragon he had rescued as an egg and named.

_Aithusia_...in the Dragon's Tongue, it meant _"The Light of the Sun."_

When she had hatched he had not be able to stay with her and had assumed she had remained with Kilgarrah. Instead she had somehow lost her way and found Morganna.

He feared for her, perhaps more now than ever, wondering how much of Morganna's sick hatred had wheedled its way into the young dragon's innocent heart. It had pained him to see the beautiful white dragon that had boded such hope in the caves of Ishmere so sickly, nearly crippled, unable so speak and with such anger in her eyes. She would have, sadly Merlin realized, killed him if he had not commanded her to stop. Yet in the moments after as she practically coward before him, he only saw her as she truly was, young, frightened and lost.

There had been no time to do what his heart had wanted then, to reach out and help her. Instead he had bid her to flee before she was slain with the knowledge she would likely return to Morganna. Then the spiral of events that followed in the coming weeks had prevented Merlin from doing anything else except to try and keep Arthur alive even as destiny seemed determined to play out his fate.

_I will find her, help her, Kilgarrah_, Merlin reaffirmed his promise.

A shifting of leaves, the clearing of a throat drew Merlin attention from his thoughts back his friend.

Arthur's eyes were open staring at the warlock.

...

Arthur stared up into a canopy of trees above him. For a few minutes his mind remained thickly muddled filled with strange voices and images. Blood, so much blood, the bodies of his fallen knights, a darkened sky, lightening, Modred and intense pain...and Merlin, always Merlin at the center of everything, hovering over him, lifting him up, supporting him. Merlin, sad, nervous, quiet, determined, desperate, grieving.

He blink several times trying to force the haziness away and, as his mind cleared, so too did everything in the past few days slot back into place...their journey together, Merlin by his side caring for him, silently accepting Arthur's barbed comments meant to hurt as much as Arthur was hurting. Merlin protecting him, even as his eyes watched sadly Arthur's confusion and mistrust. Merlin's anger as Morganna loomed over him, triumphant and gloating as Arthur lay helpless, and the final thrust of the sword that ended his sister's life. And Merlin, there at his side again, lifting him up, dragging him onward followed by the utter dejection and despair at the realization that Arthur just couldn't go on.

Arthur had shushing him quietly as his friend still fought to save him, trying vainly to lift him back up.

_Merlin_.

Merlin's grip had tightened._ No. I can't loose you._

_Just hold me, please...just - listen...there's something I want to say…_

_You're not going to say goodbye._

_Merlin, everything you've done…I know now…for me, for Camleot...for the kingdom you helped me build._

_You would have done it without me._

_Maybe…I want to say something…I've never said to you before…_

With his last breath Arthur had wanted, needed, Merlin to know his efforts had not been in vain and he was forever grateful to the young man for his friendship, for his devotion, and that Merlin _had _succeeded in saving him. He had made Arthur a better man, a better person and a better king.

And as the tip of the magical blade found its final mark, Arthur could think of no one better to spend his last breath with than his best friend, the one person who had always been there beside him through every battle fought, through every hardship Arthur faced. The two words that had never come easily from an arrogant prince, now flowed freely from a humbled king as he gazed up into Merlin's face.

_Thank you._

Arthur let go then, accepting his fate. He felt himself falling into a warm darkness that not even Merlin's distant shouts, his anguished cries could pull him back.

He should have known by now Merlin wasn't about to accept Arthur's decision. When had Merlin _ever _listened and actually _done _what he was told?

When Arthur's eyes opened again, he thought he was dead or at the very least dreaming, except for the fact his dreams usually didn't involve sitting in the middle of a lake, soaking wet and cold, with his manservant still there, looking worse than ever, tears rolling down his cheeks, snot dripping from his nose, and the most idiotic smile plastered on his face.

But Arthur wasn't in the water anymore. Instead he was lying alone under a canopy of trees. His eyes darted around.

_Merlin_.

Arthur shifted, suddenly anxious to find the idiot, a sudden fear leaping into him until he spotted the young man a few yards away, kneeling in front of a small fire. One leg was tucked underneath him, the other bent allowing his interlaced fingers to rest on his knee. Relieved washed over him.

About to call out, he paused. His servant miles away, lost deep in thought.

_Sorcerer_, Arthur reminded himself.

For the first time in his life though, the word no longer brought forth the shudder of distaste or loathing. It could not, not when equated with the young man who had been by his side all these years. Living in secret, in a kingdom who would see him dead, all for a destiny and a king Merlin believed in, yet asked nothing in return.

As Arthur studied his manservant's profile, he became worried though at the pained expression on Merlin's face. He looked forlorn and very sad as if some great weight, burden was still upon him. Arthur frowned, wondering just what _had h_appened on the lake after Arthur thought he had died.

He shifted and tried to speak, but found his throat sticky and parched and tried to clear it.

The reaction was almost instantaneous. The solemn, almost grief-stricken expression vanished as Merlin's face light up, mouth widening into a very Merlin-like grin.

"Arthur." He was at his side almost immediately, hand reaching out touching Arthur's shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

Arthur ran his tongue over his dry cracked lips. "Thirsty."

Merlin immediately scrambled back over to the fire, tripping on his own two feet and nearly falling into the flames in his haste to retrieve a water skin.

He looked sheepish as he returned to Arthur's side and Arthur couldn't help but roll his eyes and grin at the clumsiness that was just so…Merlin.

He drank thirstily, wiped his mouth and handed the water skin back.

"Thanks."

Merlin nodded taking an extraordinarily long time to re-cork the bladder as he studied the king. He suddenly looked uncertain again, as if not quite sure where he stood babbling something about not being able to offer any food but stopped when Arthur reached out and grasped his forearm.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't ever feel you have to hide yourself from me again, Merlin. I meant what I said before. I don't want you to change."

Merlin swallowed hard.

"And I want you to be able to talk to me, about whatever it is troubling you."

Merlin's cheeks flushed with embarrassment realizing Arthur had probably been awake for a while by the intense scrutiny on the king's face.

"I don't want anymore secrets between us, Merlin."

"I don't want that either, Arthur," he replied softly, honestly. He paused, and once again his shoulders shifted slightly, became tense. He met Arthur's eyes with the same bravery he had faced when he thought Arthur had despised him, loyalty laced with fear, uncertainty laced with hope. "But there are things you still don't know. Things I want to tell you, just…not right now."

Arthur felt the fragile hold of Merlin's composure. Everything was still so new, so uncharted in this new relationship with his servant. He saw in Merlin's eyes the desire to be honest, truthful with his king, yet a lifetime of hiding, lying, and concealment were not habits so easily broken. Arthur knew he could not demand the answers from Merlin, but it didn't mean he couldn't push in his own how-to-deal-with-Merlin sort of way.

"More than you being a secret sorcerer, and a powerful one at that?" Arthur drawled in his most kingly prattish manner.

Merlin's mouth lifted at the corners at the all too familiar tone of banter.

"Warlock, actually."

"There's a difference?"

Merlin nodded slightly and the king bid him to continue. "Most sorcerers who practice magic develop the ability when they are older, sometimes not until they reach adulthood. Some like the Druids, when they are younger, but they still use spells and incantation that require years of practice to master. My magic is different."

"How?" Arthur asked, for he was truly curious to know more about the side of his friend he had kept hidden for so long.

"I was born with it. According to my mother I could move objects, do things with just a thought in my mind since I was an infant."

Arthur's eyebrow arched. "That must have given Hunith a challenge."

Merlin smirked. "Indeed. From the stories my mother told me. Mostly it made her afraid."

"Of you?" Arthur couldn't believe it. Not of the woman he knew as Merlin's mother.

"Not of me. For me. She was always terrified I would be found out."

"But Ealdor was in Cendrid's Kingdom, not Camelot."

Merlin shrugged. "It did not matter. Magic might not have been outlawed, but neither was it accepted. And Ealdor was a small outlining village, close to Camelot's borders. Bounty Hunters, even Knights of Camelot, would not have cared."

Sadly, Arthur knew this was true. How many times had bounty hunters brought magic users from distance lands before Uther to reap the reward? How many times had Arthur, when he was still a young knight, had been sent on patrol seeking out Druids and magic users alike with just as must gusto as bandits and murderers? There had been no distinction then.

And even now Arthur was still struggling with the whole concept of magic and a lifetime of what he'd been taught. After learning, watching, witnessing what his friend, his servant, his secret protector had done in the last few days, strike that, years, the "truths" ingrained in him since birth were cracking under their very foundation.

It was something, among many somethings, Arthur needed to think about but for now his curiosity got the better of him and he just had to ask.

"Why would Hunith send you to Camelot all those years ago, Merlin, knowing the danger she was putting you in?"

"She thought she was protecting me."

Arthur couldn't help but snort at that.

It was obviously still an odd feeling for Merlin to talk so openly about himself, his magic, in front of Arthur, but the king waited, giving Merlin all the time he needed.

"I was young and angry about constantly hiding who I was, even if it meant watching others suffer when I knew I could do something to stop it. I started rebelling and taking too many risks. Then Will found out, saw me using magic. I was terrified at first, and then just relieved to have someone besides my mother know and accept me. When my mother found out though, she was furious and panicked. She was so afraid that others would discover my secret too. So she sent me to Gauis."

Merlin found a small stick, picked it up, absently playing with it.

"She knew Gauis from a long time ago, from before I was born. I don't know the whole story, but Gauis had helped her once and she knew she could trust him. She also knew, that before the Great Purge, he had practiced healing magic. She felt that if there was anyone who could reach me, understand, help me control my magic, it was him. And she was right."

Merlin then went on to explain how Gauis became his mentor, how he and Merlin had often worked together to fight threats to the kingdom, to Arthur, even Uther, how they had often come to heads over Merlin's impatience, acts of rashness or stupidity, but mostly how Gauis had been a steady influence, his guide, and the father figure Merlin had never had.

Without even realizing it, Merlin had settled down and leaned his back against a tree, his shoulders relaxing as he continued to talk.

When he had first come to Camelot, the warlock hadn't known anything about using spells or incantations. His magic was just raw, untamed and instinctual. Guais had taken him in and taught him the ways of the Old Religion and showed him how spells and incantations could help focus his power, refine it, and control it. Though his magic still reacted on instinct, knowing the ways of the Old Religion, had help Merlin develop his powers.

"I was always taught magic corrupted the soul," Arthur finally said.

"I know. And I know all that you faced, including Morganna's betrayal, only solidified those beliefs. I wanted so many times to tell you the truth about me, but there just never seemed to be the right time."

"I'm sorry, Merlin," Arthur replied, remembering all the times he had spoken heatedly, harshly against magic, realizing, sadly, how many times his words must have hurt Merlin deeply and kept the barrier erected between them.

"Magic is neither good, nor evil, Arthur. It just is. It is how the user chooses to wield it, just like a sword or any other type of weapon or power, that leads to aid or corruption."

Arthur thought about this, and then thought about the recent conversations they had shared.

_Some people are born to be farmers, some great physicians, some great kings. I was born to serve you Arthur and I am proud of that._

_All these years Merlin and you've never sought recognition_

_It's not why I do it._

_Why are you doing this? Still behaving like a servant?_

_It has been my destiny, as it has been since the day we met….I do this because of who you are. Without you, Camelot is nothing….There will never be another like you, Arthur…_

_I also do this because you are my friend and I don't want to loose you…._

And Arthur, looking at his manservant now, realized he felt the same way. He didn't want to loose Merlin either.

...

**TBC**

**reviews appreciated :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the delay in getting the next chapter up. I wanted to write a little ahead so I could keep the direction on the story focused. **

**Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the story. Your comments are very much appreciated. BSG**

**Chapter 3**

Warlock and King started the long journey back to Camelot on foot. For the most part they walked in silence, mainly because Arthur had seemed to draw into himself and Merlin was just too tired to care. Yet each remained within a few paces of the other as if assuring the other remained safe.

They had been traveling for a few hours now. The morning, which had started out sunny, had soon given way to an increasingly grey overcast and a threat of rain. As a matter of fact, an hour later it did start to rain, not a heavy downpour but steady enough to make everything wet, cold and Merlin miserable as he shivered under his jacket.

The warlock, for once, didn't complain though as he trudged tiredly behind his king, his footsteps becoming more clumsy as his exhaustion increased. He longed for nothing more than to get Arthur safely back to Camelot and crawl into his own bed, even if it was too narrow and the mattress too thin and the blankets too worn. To be able to lay his head down, let his body collapse and his mind sink into oblivion sounded like bliss.

He didn't actually want to think about all the implications of _returning _to Camelot now that Arthur knew his secret, but he worried about it anyway. Of course he was ecstatic Arthur knew the truth and had accepted him. It wasn't that he even feared for his life anymore, it was just things were bound to be...different and a bit complicated, (an understatement) and Merlin wasn't really sure he was ready to face any of it.

It hadn't helped any that Arthur barely said a word since they started their trek back or that Merlin was reluctant to breech the silence between them either. Both had a lot to process and neither was quite ready to tackle the what-are-we-going-to-do-now question.

The only thing Merlin had made his mind up about was that he would abide by whatever Arthur decided and face the consequences. He owed Arthur that much.

He just wasn't sure how others would take the news or how he felt about others knowing.

For so long Merlin had lived in secret and even though he whined to Gauis about how under appreciated he was, truth of the matter was the warlock had never really been comfortable being in the spotlight. He much preferred Arthur in that role, even if it meant he was a prat about it at times. In many ways he liked and still preferred the anonymity of not being so exposed. It made his job to protect his friend in some ways easier, (in some ways not). Enemies tended to underestimate him if they viewed him simply as a bumbling servant. And being able to keep Emrys a secret from enemies the likes of Morganna, had distinct advantages.

But his biggest worry about revealing himself especially to Gwen, to Gwaine, Percival, Leon and the other knights was the fear, if they even accepted him in the first place, was his friends would see and treat him differently. When it came down to it, he was still the same person inside, magic included. He was still just _Merlin_, bumbling, clumsy (yes, even Merlin couldn't really claim _that _all had been an "act"), friend, servant, and confidant. He didn't want to see that change. And most especially he didn't want to see fear, anger, betrayal or hurt in their eyes.

Merlin's foot caught on an exposed root effectively breaking his train of thought as he gasped and fell to the ground with all the grace of a sack of potatoes.

Arthur turned at the startled "oomph" sound, rolling his eyes at the warlock sprawled face down in the mud. Merlin lifted his head and spit a leaf out that clung to his lower lip before attempting to stand back up. His gangly legs however had become clumsier than usual in his exhaustion and he slipped back down in the mud. Arthur let out an exasperated sigh and reached down grabbing Merlin by the collar of his jacket.

About to admonish him for being a clumsy idiot, despite the fact he was an "all powerful warlock" (Arthur was still having difficulty completely grasping this), he paused and really looked at his friend.

Merlin's face was drawn and pale. He had dark circles under his eyes that looked like bruises making the bony cheekbones look even more prominent. His shoulders where slouched and Arthur didn't miss the slight shiver that ran through his frame as a trickle of water ran off the raven head and down the side of his cheek. In essence, Merlin looked like crap.

"We'll take a break here. Get out of the rain for a bit."

Merlin shook his head. "I'm all right, Arthur."

"You're stumbling around like a blind badger."

"I'm just a little tired. We need to keep moving, get you safely back to Camelot."

"Get _us _safely back," Arthur rephrased. "Which is not likely going to happen if you keep tripping over your own two feet every two seconds because you are a complete idiot, warlock or not."

Merlin opened his mouth and then closed it as his body betrayed him with another tired shiver. "Fine."

They found an overhang of rocks in a small ravine. It wasn't much; barely enough to fit the two of them in, but it was enough to keep them out of the rain. The two tiredly huddled together. By now Merlin was nearly drenched to the bone and Arthur could feel the dampness seeping through his own padded jacket beneath the chainmail.

Merlin shivered again.

"I'll see if I can get a small fire going, warm us out a bit while you rest."

Merlin quirked a tired eyebrow at the offer and looked at him oddly.

"What?" Arthur demanded.

"Nothing. Just wondering who you are and what happened to Arthur."

Arthur scowled and Merlin grinned.

"It's okay, Arthur. Don't bother with a fire."

Merlin then dipped his head and brought his cupped hands up to his mouth. A few seconds later Arthur felt something, a warm, tingly feeling spreading over him, like the feeling of waking up in a nice warm bed in front of a heated fire. The sensation increased until he felt downright toasty before it settled down and gently abated. When Arthur looked down at himself he saw that his pants were no longer wet, and the padded jacket beneath his chainmail felt warm and comfortable instead of soggy and cold. He looked over and noticed Merlin clothes were also dry, so was his hair.

"How..." Arthur started to ask only to receive an incoherent mumble that he swore included the word clotpole before the warlock's head suddenly slumped to the side.

"Merlin?"

Concern immediately assaulted him until he realized Merlin was breathing deep and evenly and snoring slightly. Merlin had just used magic to dry them, and then promptly passed out into an exhausted sleep!

Arthur shook his head and reached over pulling Merlin away from the rock wall his face was currently squished up against. He wrapped an arm around Merlin's shoulder and readjusted the warlock into a more comfortable position against his side. Merlin snorted, gave a little huff and settled against the King's shoulder.

The King kept his arm about the warlock's thin shoulders (for additional warmth, he mentally added, that had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with the affectionate smile spreading across his face.)

"Idiot." Arthur sputtered before resting his own head wearily against the rock.

...

Something was pressed tightly against his mouth blocking his ability to breath. He struggled and the pressure increased while at the same time he heard Arthur's clipped whisper in his ear.

Merlin's eyes flew open, his body suddenly tense. Arthur's face was inches from his own. He could feel the King's warm breath against his cheek.

And then he heard it, the sounds of horses and men on foot, snatches of conversation and shouts. Arthur drew his legs up beneath the overhang and indicated Merlin to quietly do the same.

They huddled tightly together, making themselves as small as possible.

Instinctively Arthur tightened his grip on Excalibur as they heard rustling of leaves just above them, the snort of a horse. To their left they could see a line of men, some on foot, some on horseback, coming down off the slope above them and continuing on their path until they disappeared from view. If any of them had bothered to turn and looked closely back they would have glimpsed the two barely concealed men.

Both waited with baited breath until the group had passed and the forest was once more quiet. Only then did Arthur rise and motion Merlin to follow.

"Saxons?" Merlin asked when they were some distance away.

Arthur nodded. "By the look of it. And quite a large patrol."

"Do you think they are coming from Camelot, or from the North, through the valley?"

"It's hard to say, but I don't plan on staying to find out. Come on."

They continued, remaining more vigilant than before, ducking out of sight with every sound. Merlin used his magic to periodically try and look forward to make sure they were not going to stumble into another patrol.

The only good thing was the rain had eased up and a few patches of blue could be seen overhead.

They had gone about another hour before Merlin pulled Arthur up short. "Wait. There's something up ahead."

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure."

They moved forward cautiously. Arthur took the lead, with his sword gripped tightly in his hand. When they neared the clearing, Merlin pulled Arthur back behind a rock.

In front of them there was what appeared to be the remains of a camp. The smoky remnants of a fire drifted up from the ground. A wagon was tipped over on its side, the contents scattered, and even from their distance they could see several bodies littering the ground.

They stayed behind the rock for several more seconds while Merlin used his magic to scan the area. "I don't see anyone else about."

Arthur nodded. They approached the camp cautiously nonetheless. There were five bodies on the ground, all obviously had been in the middle of a battle. One lay prone with a cross bow arrow in the back, another a bolt through the neck, while the remaining had been felled by swords. All were dressed raggedly, but wore a mixture of armor and leather vests.

"Looks like a small groups of bandits." Merlin said.

The campsite was completely ransacked. "Apparently not their lucky day."

"You think it was the group of Saxons we ran into earlier?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Arthur guessed. "If they are retreating back across the borders from Camlann, there's likely to be more too. They may be trying to regroup."

The thought made Arthur uneasy, especially as he had no idea what the condition of his army or Camelot was in after the battle. They had been outnumbered five to one and Arthur had left only a skeletal force back at the castle. "Camelot may still be vulnerable. And Guinevere..." He let the rest fade. He couldn't even think of the possibility something had happened to her. He had left Gwen at the camp to help take care of the wounded. He only hoped none of the Saxons had breeched through before they had managed to push them back.

He had given Gauis the Royal Seal to give to Guinevere. It had been his only thought that had given him hope that she had been unharmed and was safely back awaiting his return.

Merlin easily read the worry plaguing the King.

"I'm sure the city is fine, Sire and so is Gwen. You stopped the Saxons before they advanced through the pass."

But that was just it. He hadn't, not really. They had been losing the battle until Merlin, as the old sorcerer, had stepped in. Looking at the bodies of the slain bandits, the King could only visualize his slain men on the battlefield. How many men had he lost? How many of his knights had fallen? How many more if not for Merlin...

"No. You did," The King replied. "Without you, Merlin, we would have been defeated."

The warlock shook his head, standing before Arthur as he had always done, his voice quiet, but true in his belief. "Arthur, I may have helped tip the scales in even favor, but even my magic isn't powerful enough to defeat an entire army alone."

Arthur wasn't convinced though remembering the sight of the "old" warlock on top of the mountain wielding the power of lightening itself. The amount of magic in Merlin had been...frightening. Their enemies hadn't stood a chance.

Yet it was this same man who stood humbly before him shaking his head in denial.

"It was _you_, Arthur that won that battle, make no mistake about that." Merlin said with such conviction it had the King staring back at the slender, dark haired man before him.

"It was you that your men followed into battle, Sire. And you who they fought beside. Not just out of a sense of duty to their King, but because of _who _you are. They believe in _you_, Arthur, in the love you have for Camelot and in your people and in the future you strive for. They follow you. Just as I always will."

Arthur found his eyes locked onto the sincere blue ones that gazed back with nothing but loyalty. How had Arthur managed to find such a true friend that had stood by him for so long despite the hardships he had faced in secret still amazed him. When they had first met, all those years ago, when Merlin, a nobody, a nothing had dared to challenged an arrogant, spoiled prince, who would have ever thought two such opposing personalities could have formed such a bond.

Looking back however, it really shouldn't have surprised, Arthur. There had just been "something" about the man that had intrigued him even if he did think he was an idiot.

Arthur had actually loved the challenge of having someone stand up to him instead of coddling or bowing down to him (though he was never going to admit that!) It had been refreshing, stimulating and downright fun in ways that he never got with the Noble lackeys that followed him around, hanging onto his every word and feeding into his ego.

Merlin had never done that. He would argue head to head with Arthur, complain, be cheeky or annoyed, even downright rude at times. Arthur would yell back, throw things at him, use him as target practice, and on a few occasions throw Merlin in the stocks and on rarer occasions, even the dungeon for a day or so. Merlin had put up with it all, not out of a sense of subservience, but just because it was Arthur, the man according to Merlin was his destiny to protect, but also and more importantly because he was his friend.

Arthur gazed at the man before him. "You will won't you, Merlin." It wasn't a question but a simple fact that still left Arthur amazed.

"I may have magic, Arthur, but it is nothing without you to give it a purpose." Merlin replied simply. He tilted his head slightly "A wise friend told me we are like two sides of the same coin." The warlock's mouth then widened as he added a bit cheekily. "Even if your half is sixty percent royal prat most of the time."

"Only sixty?" Arthur smirked, crossing his arms airily. "So that means I'm magnificent the other forty percent?"

Merlin turned and started walking again. "More like thirty. The other ten you're just a dolliphead."

"Ow!" The warlock rubbed his head where Arthur had cuffed him. "Make that eighty percent prat!"

**TBC...**

**Reviews appreciated. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**(Just a repost after fixing some errors) **

**Thank you to those that read and left a review for the last chap. Here's the next...sorry for the wait again. Hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 4**

Merlin felt the roll of his stomach a second before a loud grumbling sound issued forth. He rubbed his belly trying to ease the pangs as it reminded him, quite vocally, that he had not eaten in over twenty-four hours.

He tried to ignore the discomfort as best as he could as he trudged behind Arthur's steadier pace. Since finding the slaughtered camp, Arthur had been eager to veer off the easier, more likely to be utilized route, wishing to avoid another patrol and decided on a hillier, slightly more rugged, but less obvious trek. For Merlin it just meant the extra expenditure of energy traipsing up and down the hills was making his empty stomach complain all the more loudly.

Think about something else, Merlin told himself after another loud gurgle vocalized itself.

So the first thing he thought about was Gauis. He would be happy to see the physician again remembering the tight worried hug the old man had encompassed him with before he had started his journey with the gravely wounded King. It was a hug that spoke volumes offering comfort to the scared warlock whose emotional state was a tightly wrapped bundle of fear, grief, guilt and worry. It was a hug that expressed his own worries over the outcome of their journey.

'_I'll have your favorite meal waiting for you when you get back.'_

The thought warmed Merlin for how many times had his mentor presented Merlin with a steaming meal at the end of another long day of either serving or saving Arthur's butt, Gwen, the knights or Camelot from some magically oriented threat without ever expecting to be recognized or even thanked for his efforts.

And the sudden warm thought had him imagining a large, steaming bowl of rabbit stew set before him making his mouth suddenly water and his stomach ache.

_No. No...That wasn't good. Think about something else. Gwaine. Think about Gwaine. Sitting in a tavern, entertaining hi with his roguish, colorful tales, laughing over a tankard of ale and a leg of mutton. Gwaine and Percival lowering a hook into Cook's kitchen from a grate above, imploring him to help them snag a freshly roasted chicken._

Merlin's mouth salivated at the images and he smacked his lips longingly.

_No. Definitely not good to think of Gwaine._

_Gwen._

_Gwen smiling at him and holding a plate full of cheese and grapes. And what where those? Sausages?_

His stomach groaned particularly loudly and he nearly ran into Arthur as the king stopped abruptly.

"Can you be _anymore _annoying, Merlin?"

"What?" He asked, genuinely baffled.

"Stop smacking your lips and making those _weird _noises."

"What noises?"

His stomach gurgled again.

"That!"

Merlin flushed, sheepish. "Sorry. I can't help it. I'm hungry."

"I'm hungry too but you don't see me making a complete idiot about it, do you?"

"Well not all of us are so lucky to have an extra reserve of padding to burn off," Merlin said grumpily.

"Resorting to fat jokes again, _Mer_lin? You really are loosing your creativity."

"Everyone's entitled to an off day once in a while, _Sire_."

Arthur simply rolled his eyes. "I know. Why don't you just conjure something up for us to eat then?"

Merlin blinked. "What? You mean with _magic_?" He couldn't believe it. Was Arthur actually being serious?

The King shrugged. "Well, why not? I mean, you are a powerful warlock after all who can turn himself into an old man, create lightening, defeat and army and still managed to save the life of your King. Shouldn't be too hard, I imagine, to conjure up a little food," Arthur teased.

Merlin reddened in embarrassment then mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that, _Mer_lin?"

The warlock shifted edgily from side to side. "I said I don't know how." He repeated.

Arthur quirked an eyebrow which only made Merlin scowl at the sudden irony. "It doesn't work that way, Arthur. Okay, I mean it can, I suppose, just not with me. I tried before, lots of times, but it never works. All I get is flowers...or butterflies..." The last sentence just kind of rambled out and Merlin regretted it as soon as he said it.

Arthur stared at his manservant/ridiculously powerful warlock for several long seconds before he threw his head back suddenly and started laughing.

Merlin huffed. "What's so funny!"

"You are, Merlin."

The warlock crossed his arms, not sure if he was indignant or...happy (?) Arthur was laughing at him about magic.

The King started walking again. "We'll come on, then. We haven't got all day."

Merlin gaped. "What?"

Arthur looked over his shoulder in a most pattishly exasperated manner. "Hunting, Merlin. We are going hunting. Since you are apparently useless, _as usual_, about procuring a decent mean, I guess it will just have to be up to _me_. After all, I can't have you fainting on me like a girl again."

The warlock stood staring at the retreating chain mail covered back with a small roll of his eyes, but smirked nonetheless as he followed his king.

It actually took a _little _longer and a bit of ingenuity, (considering Arthur didn't have his crossbow, just the small dagger he always kept in his boot), and a lot of _luck_, but a few hours later Arthur proudly held up, of all things a boar - a juvenile and a bit on the runty side, but an adequate meal nonetheless.

Merlin picked the leaves grumpily out of his hair from having been sent in to "flush" said boar out while watching the smug, superior look spread across Arthur's face.

An hour later in a secluded spot where they were sure their presence wouldn't be detected, they set up camp and soon after they had the boar roasting over a small fire. The starving warlock hadn't tasted anything so good and was willing to let Arthur bask in his glory.

After their meal they both sat in silence, Arthur leaning up against a log, one knee drawn up and absently poking a stick into the fire, while Merlin was settled across from him, legs bent and his elbows resting on his knees.

With his mind no longer occupied with the pangs of an empty stomach, the warlock allowed himself to be lulled by the warmth of the fire.

While Merlin's focus seemed drawn to the glowing embers, Arthur's own was on observing his servant. Though the warlock still looked tired, (as Arthur did himself, though he refused to admit it), he was glad to see Merlin no longer looked like he was going to keel over from utter exhaustion.

He watched as his manservant seemed to relax into himself and wondered just what the warlock was thinking when his expression went from pensive to sad all of a sudden. He looked younger, more vulnerable in body, yet much older in his eyes. It was same far off solemn look he remembered seeing when he had woken up and Arthur was beginning to wonder just how Merlin _had _saved him.

"Merlin, what happened last night?"

Immediately he saw Merlin's shoulders tense and seemed to withdraw into himself even more.

"You already know, Arthur."

"I know you saved my life. But there's more, isn't there? More than you're telling me."

"I..."

"We agreed no more secrets." Arthur set the stick he'd been poking the fire with aside and leaned forward. "I'm not asking as your King, but as your friend."

Merlin's eyes glittered with a deep seeded emotion at Arthur's words.

"I know. It's just complicated."

"As I am just beginning to understand, Merlin, that seems to be a continuing theme where you are concerned."

Merlin couldn't help but quirk a slight smile. "Haven't quite fathomed me out yet?"

"Not quite, but I'm getting there. Now tell me what happened at the lake."

Instead of answering directly, Merlin asked instead. "What exactly do you remember?"

Arthur thought back. "We were on the rise. I could see the lake. It was still far away and we didn't have the horses." He paused. "I could feel the blade moving in my chest and I knew we weren't going to make it."

He saw Merlin's eyes glisten. He could tell the memory was still very raw and painful to the warlock.

"You held me and I just wanted you to know...that it was okay between us Merlin, that you _had _saved my life, that you had made me a better person, a better King and then I just felt myself sinking. I thought I had died. I don't know how you got me to the lake, what happened next, but I can see in it your eyes there's more to this story."

Merlin sighed and stared into the flames of their campfire a long time. Finally, he said quietly, because he found he _did _want Arthur to know. "You're right, Arthur. I wasn't able to get you to the lake without the horses. I called for someone to helped me."

"Who?" When Merlin didn't say anything right away, he probed. "Another sorcerer?" The thought made Arthur feel surprisingly less edgy than he thought it would, the idea that Merlin may have called upon and consorted with another magic user for aid. He supposed the warlock knew several magic users, like the Druids and that strange sorceress that had helped cure Gwen (the one with the odd affinity for ratty dresses). That was it, maybe he had called her.

Merlin gawked at the suggestion. _And did Merlin just snicker under his breath?_

"It's not exactly something you want to hear..." Merlin gnawed on his lip.

"Just tell me, already," Arthur huffed, exasperatedly. "I promise I won't yell if that's what you're afraid of. After all that I've been through the last few days, I doubt there is much else that would shock me."

"You'd be surprised, Sire."

That made Arthur frown.

"It was the Dragon, Arthur. I called the Dragon to help me."

Arthur blinked. _Dragon? Did he just say dragon? _His brow arched almost comically. "Come again? A dragon?" And when Merlin simply nodded, he spurted out. "Where? How in the world did you...?" Arthur's eyes widened suddenly, his mind going backwards to the battle at Camlann, to the caves of Ishmere..."You mean...not the dragon with Morganna."

"No. No. Not that one," Merlin said and then clamped his mouth shut as he realized just what he'd said.

"Not...that..._one_?" Arthur's eyes narrow as the warlock shifted slightly. "Just how many dragons, _Mer_lin, are we talking about then?"

"Um...just two," he replied meekly. _Did his voice just squeak like that?_

"Just t-w-o."

"The one helping Morganna is just a baby," Merlin explained. "The other is the _Great _Dragon."

"Great Dragon?" Arthur knew he was sounding like a magpie but just couldn't seem to help it. He cleared his throat in a very kingly like manner to cover up his sudden unease.

"Um...yeah, actually _The _Great Dragon, the one your father imprisoned beneath the castle."

"That's impossible! I killed it, remember?"

Something in the way Merlin's eyes shifted, and _that _was definitely a squirm this time, had the King's eyes narrowing. "Merlin...I _did _kill it, didn't I?"

A pregnant pause followed.

"Not exactly, Arthur. It was more like I sent Kilgarrah away, just like I did with Aithusia when she tried to attack the knights at Camlann."

_Kilgarrah? Aithusia? Not only were they talking about dragons, one of which he thought he killed already, but apparently they were on a first name bases._

Arthur could only stare back. "But how could you possibly...?"

Merlin sighed deeply. "Balinor was my father, Arthur." He said it quietly, drawing his knees up and hugging them to his chest, focusing his eyes on the fire as he let his words to Arthur sink in.

The king could only stare. _Father_? Balinor was Merlin's father….

For Merlin, speaking of Balinor brought back a flood of memories like it was yesterday: Gauis telling him about his father, their quest to find Balinor and telling the man he was his son, of watching Balinor die in his arms. His grief in finding his father and then loosing him so soon was only lessened now by his memories of Balinor's presence while trapped in the Crystal Caves, the warm feeling of being reunited with him, helping Merlin to find himself and his magic once again.

"I thought you didn't know who your father was." Arthur finally said in the silence that followed.

"I didn't. Not until Gauis told me just before we set off to find Balinor. I couldn't tell you, Arthur, I'm sorry, but Gauis felt if Uther had known I was the son of dragonlord it would have been as much of a death sentence as if he'd known about my magic."

Arthur couldn't deny it, nor could he deny something else as his mind fled back to that day, remembering how Merlin had been so unusually distraught over the dragonlord's death, a man they had barely known for just one day. Arthur had assumed, like him, he'd been upset that their only hope to save Camelot and his people from the continuing attacks by the great beast had died with Balinor.

Merlin's _own _father though, Arthur thought, and he had to hide his grief, from him, from everyone (along with so many other things, no doubt, to keep his secret safe.) Arthur then remembered his own father's death and how he had grieved over Uther's body long into the night. As the dawn broke the next morning and he had opened the great doors, it was to the sight of his servant sitting slump outside on the floor.

_'You've been here all night?' Arthur had asked, already knowing the answer._

_Merlin had stood before him. 'I didn't want you to feel alone.'_

Merlin remained quiet, not quite sure how Arthur would respond.

"I'm sorry, Merlin. I am sorry I was not there for you. That you were forced to go through that alone."

"It's all right, Arthur. I wasn't totally alone. I had Gauis, and I still have Balinor here, with me inside," Merlin said, and the way he said it, Arthur believed it to be true.

"A dragonlord's abilities are passed on from father to son. It was how I could call Kilgarrah to help me."

"So that night on the field...when you went with me to face the dragon you knew you could defeat it?"

Merlin shook his head. "I wasn't sure. I had already tried before to stop Kilagrrah with my magic, but it was useless. Only after Balonor died could I inherited his powers, but even then I wasn't sure they had been passed down to me. It was only after Kilgarrah attack you and the knights that I felt it, the connection between Kilgarrah and me. I was going to kill him, Arthur, honestly, but in the end I couldn't."

Arthur tried really hard to keep the anger from his voice, remembering the destruction and carnage the beast had wrought. "He killed hundreds of my people, Merlin! Why, if you had the means, did you not destroy him?"

"He lashed out in anger, Arthur. You have to understand. Uther killed his family, hunted down and annihilated his kind and then used Balinor to help imprison him for twenty years as his own personal trophy. Would you have been any less bitter in his place? But he was also the last of his kind, a creature of magic, just like me. In the end I showed him mercy and instead sent him away, ordering him never to attacked Camelot again. Since then Kilgarrah has helped me in times of great need. He has saved my life more than once. And it is the Great Dragon you owe your life to, not me."

Merlin paused, looking up at his shocked friend. The warlock's eyes clouded over again with the pain of remembering. "You were dying, Arthur. And there was no way I could make it to the lake. Not without the horses. I summoned Kilgarrah, once last time and he flew us there."

"I rode a dragon?"

Merlin's mouth lifted in a slight grin. "Missed the ride of your life." His eyes suddenly became very teary. "But I was too late." He wiped the moisture off with the back of his hand, his shoulders nearly crumbling.

Arthur was confused. "But I am here, Merlin. I'm real. Flesh and blood, see."

Merlin shook his head. "I couldn't...accept it...I dragged you into the water and called forth the Sidhe and the goddess who lived there, begged them to help me. But I was too late."

"What are you saying?"

"You did die Arthur...And there was no other way. The balance of life had to be restored to bring you back. I-I told them to take mine."

"Merlin!"

"Kilgarrah wouldn't let me though. He said there was a reason we had met, that I had freed him."

"Wait. Merlin. It was you who freed the dragon in the first place?"

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I didn't want to, but I had made a promise, an oath upon my mother's life."

"Why Merlin? Why would you promise such a thing knowing how dangerous a beast you were unleashing?" This time he couldn't keep the anger out of his voice.

"There _were _reasons, Arthur, but they are complicated and painful to explain but without the Great Dragon's help, even before he was freed, Camelot would have fallen a long time ago." Merlin's voice became thick again. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I wish I could have done things differently, but I just didn't know how."

There was such guilt and overwhelming sadness in the warlock's voice that Arthur's anger faded. He could see Merlin's composure beginning to break as if the weight of the memories were becoming too much to bear.

"I learned about my destiny from Kilgarrah and about you being the Once and Future King that would unite Albion. I-I used to sneak down to caves below the castle to seek advice from the dragon when I wasn't sure what to do about various magical threats."

"So you were friends?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it that, back then. We were both creatures of magic, born of the Old Religion. I'm sure it amused him that I sought his help and he could be annoying and cryptically frustrating to get a straight answer from, but I was indebted to him nonetheless. It was Kilgarrah who taught me the spell that allowed me to entrap Sigan's soul back into the crystal and tried to warn me about certain...things that would lead to Camelot's downfall or your death."

Arthur wasn't quite sure what all Merlin was talking about regarding the sorcerer Sigan that had nearly raised Camelot to the ground, but he _did_ hear the pause and the catch in Merlin's voice and wondered just what "certain...things" he was referring to. But Arthur could also tell it was something Merlin was not ready to reveal. He let it go for now not wishing to interrupt as he watched Merlin struggled with his emotions.

"And it was Kilgarrah in the end, Arthur, who sacrificed himself, for you and for me, for us, for Albion. He sacrificed himself so I wouldn't have to loose the best friend I ever had."

He fell silent and Arthur could only stare back in shock.

...

Despite his tiredness, the King found it very difficult to sleep that night as he pondered all that Merlin had revealed. As for the warlock, his confession, combined with his own exhaustion, had left Merlin in an emotional stupor.

While Merlin slept, Arthur kept vigil by the fire thinking back over the last several days.

Merlin's revelation about his magic had left Arthur feeling so betrayed and sick, the hurt seeping into every pore of skin and down into his bones. But in the days that had followed, as Arthur witnessed Merlin's magic being used it to protect him, as his servant faithfully cared for him, as he listened to Merlin speak words of encouragement to keep Arthur moving, or the quiet, stumbling tones of a man filled with guilt and grieving, did Arthur's eyes begin to really _see _the truth.

Merlin had never and would never betray him. He had kept secrets, yes, but those secrets had only ever been out of the necessity for survival and had never meant to hurt or harm.

Arthur wondered just how many times Merlin had wished to reveal his secret to Arthur only for circumstances, or even Arthur's own words to stop him.

How many times in Merlin's life had he faced the same dejection, the same prejudice and fears? Being born with magic and having to hide who you were before you could even talk or understand must have been so very hard. Growing up in Ealdor, so close to Camelot's borders, with that kind of fear looming over one's head couldn't have been easy either for Merlin or his mother.

Arthur remembered the words Merlin had said those years ago when Arthur had asked why Merlin had left Ealdor to settle in Camelot.

'_I just didn't fit in anymore. I wanted to find somewhere where I did.'_

'_Have any luck?'_

'_I'm not sure yet.'_

Arthur wondered if Merlin still felt that way, that he didn't fit. It saddened Arthur to think so. Camelot was as much Merlin's home now and it had always been Arthur's.

And when Merlin had revealed his magic to Arthur it had not been with a flare of power but something simple, the image of a dragon out of the glowing embers of the fire. It was a symbol of the Pendragons, the Crest of Camelot but also the embodiment of a Dragonlord.

He doubted Merlin had even thought of the combined significance but had merely produced it from the heart. If Arthur hadn't been so shocked, hadn't felt so betrayed, had been able to accept Merlin then, he would have seen the utter beauty and the significance in the simple display.

He thought of the Great Dragon, a creature of magic that had unleashed such terrible destruction, a creature that had every reason to hate Uther with a passion, yet according to Merlin, had aided the warlock in his efforts to keep Arthur and ironically Camelot safe even before it had been set free. The same dragon that sacrificed his life for the son of his enemy.

The hate he thought he should have for the creature after taking so many lives now was tempered in understanding. Uther had been wrong to imprison it in the first place.

Arthur loved his father, would always love his father, but Uther had been wrong about so many things. His father's hatred of magic had blinded him and had led to the division and adversity that still existed.

When Arthur became King, he had tried to turn things around, to make things better, and he thought he had made progress with each of the five major kingdoms, but like his father had maintained a prejudice and a fear towards magic itself.

Sure he had stopped the active hunting and persecution of the Druids, and had rid the use of the pyre as an execution method, but he had done little else in the three years he had become King. Magic was still band and those with magic still lived in fear of being persecuted. He had done nothing to change his own stance on magic either and only recently, since the old sorceress had cured Gwen, had stopped to think and to really seriously challenge his ingrained beliefs.

_'Remember what saved your Queen. Magic and sorcery,' the old witch had said._

_'It was also sorcery that bewitched her,' Arthur had countered._

_'There is no evil in sorcery, only in the hearts of men. My request is you remember this.'_

It had been her only request.

Her words were oddly...wise and strangely _familiar_, despite the fact she creeped him out a bit.

He now knew Merlin's heart had always been loyal and true, and so had his magic.

But he had also seen Morganna's downfall and what the destructive force of sorcery in the heart of hatred could lead to. Magic had the ability to cripple its victims in horrifying ways or to heal, as they had with Gwenivere and even his own father. It was not something to be trifled with. It had its inherent dangers in the temptation to be abused just as it had its beauty in the simple form of a dragon made from the embers of a fire at the hand of a humble servant to the golden rays of hope as it had freed Gwen from a cursed fate.

Perhaps, like everything, it was a matter of balance….

**TBC..**

**Reviews much appreciated. Thanks BSG**


	5. Chapter 5

**Here's the next chap!**

**Chapter 5**

The beginning of next day was essentially a repeat of the first as Arthur and Merlin continued their journey back to Camelot on foot while trying to evade their enemies. Unfortunately the forest was not short of danger.

It wasn't the Saxons or bandits, however, that Arthur should have feared, but rather his own servant's inbred clumsiness that led them into trouble.

He should have known.

It had started when he and Merlin were attempting to wind their way up through a series of ravines and decided to use the natural flow of a river. The water was low enough to allow them to hop foot from boulder to boulder rather then trying to push through the thick brush that lined each side of the banks.

Arthur was a short distance ahead of Merlin who was making his way up over another set of boulders just off to his left. Suddenly Arthur heard a startled yelp and then a large splash.

When he turned he could no longer see his servant. "Merlin!"

He leapt agilely across the rocks and found Merlin on his back, flaying in a pool of water. He was sputtering and seemed to have difficulty getting back up as the rapid downward flow of water pushed against him.

When his head went under, Arthur jump in, cringing as the cold water poured into his boots and swirled around his knees. Bracing himself against the current, he grabbed Merlin and hauled the raven head up out of the water.

"You idiot! What are you trying to do? Drown yourself?"

Merlin coughed. "Shut up, Arthur, and help me up! This water is bloody freezing!" The servant's teeth were already chattering as the cold water rush past his chest, splashing up into his face. As luck would have it, (all bad), he had managed to fall into pocket where the water was channeling between two large rocks in a forceful stream.

Arthur muttered under his breath something Merlin was sure was another insult as he got behind the clumsy servant and slipped his hands under his armpits. He started to haul Merlin up only for the warlock to let out a gasp of pain. A hot, agonizing sensation shot up Merlin's left leg as he shouted for Arthur to stop.

"My foot! It's trapped!"

Arthur immediately eased up but kept his body pressed against Merlin to keep the warlock from falling back into the water.

"Can you wiggle it free?"

He tried but it was wedged tight and throbbed with the slightest movement.

"Can you get your other foot up against the rock, push against it?" Arthur asked.

"I'll try." Merlin strained against the effort trying to ignore the pain shooting up his leg. He shook his head. "It won't budge."

"Hang on." Arthur moved around in front of him, but as soon as he did, Merlin started to fall back into the water having no leverage against the push of the current. Arthur immediately shot out a hand for Merlin to grasp.

By now the warlock was shivering uncontrollably and coughing as water continued to spray up into his face, nearly blinding him.

Arthur found himself in a predicament. If he let go of Merlin the force of the current would push him back under, but he needed to find out what was trapping Merlin's foot.

Seeing nothing handy for Merlin to hang onto, the King drew his sword, plunging it into the sandy bottom at a slight angle next to Merlin's right side. "Grab the hilt and hold yourself up while I see just what kind of mess you've gotten yourself into this time."

Merlin would have snapped back a retort if he wasn't in so much pain and bloody cold to boot! He grabbed the handle of the sword with fingers already starting to go numb and braced against it as Arthur moved up to his trapped leg.

Upon closer inspection of the boulder Arthur immediately discovered the problem. The boulder was cleaved in half. It must have had a large fissure in it and was already unstable when Merlin hopped onto it. It had been enough apparently to separate the boulder. When Merlin fell in, the current must have pushed the broken half over trapping his foot underneath.

"I'm going to try to push the boulder out of the way." Arthur dug his boots into the sandy bottom and braced his shoulder against the rock. He struggled, the veins popping out the side of his neck, but the rock wouldn't shift.

"It's t-o-o he-avy," Merlin chattered as water continued to spray up into his face.

"I need leverage," Arthur said. He clapped a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "Just hang on Merlin while I go find something to use."

"O-Kay. But hur-ry."

Arthur squeezed Merlin's shoulder before dragging himself out of the pool and looking quickly around for something suitable. He cursed when he didn't see anything in his immediate area.

Merlin's teeth continued to chatter as Arthur moved from his line of vision. At least his foot wasn't hurting anymore, but then again he was starting to loose the feeling in his leg.

His numb hands slipped and suddenly Merlin found himself back under the water. He groped frantically for the hilt of the sword trying to keep his hands away from the sharp edges of the blade itself but ended up cutting his hands anyway. He managed to pull himself upright again just as he saw Arthur returning with a long branch.

He was gasping for air, coughing and shivering so badly he could hardly think straight.

The King wedged the pole under the rock, his expression pinched as he saw how pale Merlin had become in the few minutes trapped in the freezing cold torrent. "I may only be able to get it up a few inches, so be ready to pull your foot out."

Merlin nodded. He pressed his other foot up against the rock as a brace while Arthur pushed down on the branch. At first nothing happened but then as Arthur put more weight onto it, the rock slowly started to move. Merlin strained to wiggle his foot free. Arthur applied a little more pressure. "Come on! Come on!" He cursed the wretched rock.

Suddenly the branch snapped near the base and the rock slammed back down and rolled slightly forward. Merlin screamed in agony, but his screams were abruptly cut short as he fell back into the freezing water.

Arthur struggled over to him, lifting the warlock's head out of the water. "Merlin! I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

By now Merlin's lips were nearly purple as he choked and coughed through the pain that was racing up his entire leg now being crushed beneath the boulder.

"It's n-no use, Ar-thur. Too he-avy to move." Merlin was panting now, his bloody hands trying to grip Arthur's chainmail but they slipped weakly back too numb to grab on.

Arthur was frantic. The boulder had Merlin effectively pinned down and the cold water was quickly zapping him of his strength. His only recourse was to try to wedge something stronger under the rock, but Merlin was too weak to hold himself up above the water. Arthur didn't know what he was going to do...unless...

The King shook Merlin vigorously. "Merlin! Can you use your magic to push the rock off?"

"So c-cold," Merlin mumbled, his eyes starting to roll back as shock started to set it.

Arthur slapped his face. "You bloody stupid warlock, don't you dare pass out on me!" The King slapped him again, harder this time, and Merlin's eyes opened and seemed to focus. "Use your magic, Merlin! Push the rock off your foot."

"I can't...so c-cold...hurts...can't think..."

He grabbed Merlin by the face. "Yes you can, because I am not about to let you die on me, you hear that, Merlin? Now used your magic and move the goddamn rock!"

Through agonizing pants Merlin nodded. He clung to Arthur, shivering spastically. His face pinched up and as Arthur watched, Merlin's eyes turned gold. At first nothing happened but as the intensity on Merlin's face increased, the rock began to levitate slowly upward.

Arthur wasted no time and pulled, hard.

Both men were flung backwards into the water as Merlin's foot popped free. "You did it, Merlin! You did it!"

Merlin grimaced a jerky smile before he passed out.

...

Merlin sat groggily up lifting his hand to his face before letting it slide down to his chest. It was then he realized his chest was bare from the waist...correct that, he was completely bare except for his underwear.

His face flushed crimson. "Where are my bloody clothes!"

Arthur, still in pants, but minus the chainmail, padded jacket and tunic, threw another log onto the blazing fire. (One he had started by himself, the old fashioned way, even if it had taken almost a bloody hour to do so while he cursed the unconscious, useless warlock sprawled out on the ground.)

"On the branches drying out." Merlin went to get up to retrieve them but yelped in pain as fire shot up his leg. "Stay there, you idiot. I haven't had a chance to check your leg properly yet."

"I want my clothes!" He insisted, hugging his arms self-consciously about his slim torso.

Arthur smirked. "Didn't know you were such a self-conscious _girl_, Merlin."

"Just give me my clothes, you prat!"

Seeing the determined look on warlock's face the king rolled his eyes and tossed the garments over to his stubborn servant. "They're still wet."

Merlin snorted and with a flash of gold, like the day before, they were dry. He quickly tugged the tunic over his head. Arthur insisted he leave his pants off though, at least until he could check out Merlin's leg. With the long shirt at least covering his upper body and down past his waist Merlin agreed.

It was not so much about being a self-conscious "girl" as Arthur put it, (okay maybe a little), as it was with the fact that his chest was covered in various scars from injuries sustained over the years, some Arthur was aware of, but most he wasn't and this was what Merlin was attempting to hide.

Maybe Arthur hadn't noticed?

As Merlin fiddled self-consciously with the material of his tunic, Arthur's lips compressed, indicating the king was _fully _aware of the patchwork array littering his torso when his eyes focused with particular intensity on the center of the warlock's chest.

Though old and faded, the fist size circular scar was the evidence left behind after his battle with the High Priestess Nemwieh when she had tried to strike him down with a fireball during the very first year in his service as Arthur's manservant. The second worst was the puckered scar from the Serket's sting. Luckily it was on his back and he doubted Arthur had glimpsed that, (hopefully).

"Yes, Merlin. I intend to have a chat with you about that and a few _others _you've managed to hide from me over the years, but first I need to take a look at your leg."

Merlin flushed sheepishly but wisely remained silent.

Arthur used Merlin's neckerchief to clean his foot and lower leg. Though Merlin could tell Arthur was trying to be gentle, he couldn't help but wince. His ankle was swollen and bruised and there was a large abrasion that ran up his calf.

Once clean, Arthur manipulated the limb carefully and Merlin hissed. "I don't think it's broken, but it's badly bruised. I doubt you'll be able to put much weight on it."

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I know how much you wanted to get back to Camelot as quickly as possible."

"Can't be helped."

"You could go on without me, Sire."

"Very funny, Merlin." The King continued to administer to the injury. "It's still bleeding. I'll need to bandage this up with something."

"Arthur, I'm serious. I will only slow you down."

"Trying to be a self-sacrificing idiot again, I see." The King quipped, his jaw suddenly tightening.

"I can take care of myself, you know." Merlin replied indignantly.

"Yes, Merlin. I can see that quite clearly right now," the King drawled sarcastically, but there was an angry glitter in Arthur's eyes, one that was strongly advising Merlin to _Shut Up._

So the warlock did just that, clamped his mouth shut, having very little to stand on (figuratively and literally at the moment) in his defense.

Arthur rubbed his chin in thought. "Do you think you can fix it, Merlin...you know with...magic?"

Merlin was surprised again at how easily Arthur seemed to be about bringing the subject of magic up. It warmed him inside even as he shrugged, slightly embarrassed as he confessed. "I usually have about as much luck healing myself with incantations as I have of producing food."

"Terrific."

"I have gotten better at healing others though, including a certain royal prat."

"Is that so?"

Arthur was again trying to mesh the two images of the all-powerful warlock capable of helping defeat an entire army with the clumsy, idiotic manservant before him who had almost succeeded in drowning himself!

After Merlin's reveal and learning all that he had done and the ruses Merlin had used to hide his secret, at first Arthur wasn't sure how he was going to relate to this new "version" of his servant. But Merlin had been telling the truth all along. He _really_ was the same person inside, _clumsy idiocy_ included!

Arthur sat back on his heels. "Why can't you? Heal yourself, I mean?"

Merlin shrugged. "Don't know. Healing spells are tricky to begin with and my magic just seems to work differently on me than it does on others. On the up side I tend to naturally heal a little faster than a normal person, but directing a healing spell onto myself doesn't seem to work very well."

Merlin remembered the attempts to heal himself after Morganna had poisoned him and then pushed him into the ravine. He had injured his leg in the fall and hadn't even been able to summon enough energy to slow the flow of bleeding. Gauis had later attributed this to Merlin's magic being otherwise tied up instinctually trying to rid his body of the poison but even then, without the boy Daegel's help and the tincture, Merlin would have likely not survived. The same had been true the time he'd been stung by the Serket and hit by arrow. If not for Kilgarrah, in both cases, he would have also perished. But Merlin _had _been able to save Arthur when Gwen, (under Morganna's dark enchantment) had poisoned Arthur, something he had not been able to do before when Arthur had been stung by the Questing beast.

Merlin realized that his healing powers _had _increased over the years. Some of it, he was sure had to do with Guais' mentoring and learning more about the balance of nature, but most of it was still instinctual. The times he had actually been able to heal others, the power had come from somewhere deep within him and any incantation he might have used had not come from something he had learned but had simply known. It was perplexing to say the least and just one of those things, like many when it came to his unique kind of magic that Merlin would just have to continually discover.

"Well, if you can't heal yourself with magic, then we'll have to treat it the normal way," Arthur said. "After all, you still are a physician, so tell me what I need to do."

And with that warlock and king worked together. Merlin told Arthur which herbs to collect to make a healing paste which Merlin was able to enchant to increase its effects. Arthur sacrificed his tunic for bandage strips and wrapped his leg, as well as Merlin's palms which had been sliced against Arthur's sword in the water while he was struggling to raise himself back up.

Afterwards they rested a bit longer as they ate some of the remaining boar meat. Arthur then doused the fire, making sure to smother it with a lot of dirt so as not to leave behind a smoke column. He then dawned his padded jacket, (which Merlin had finished drying, along with their boots with magic) and his chainmail before helping Merlin up.

Thanks to a numbing spell Merlin uttered under his breath, he was at least able to put some weight on his leg and hobble, preventing the indignantly of Arthur having to hoist him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Leaning against Arthur for support, the two set out towards Camelot again.

**TBC...**

**Reviews appreciated. Hope I am still keeping the characters in canon.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you so much for the great reviews I got from the last chapter. I couldn't resist adding a little Merlin Whump in with the bromance, lol.**

**Anyway, here's the next chap.**

**Chapter 6**

A sheen a sweat laced Merlin's face and his mouth was compressed into a tight line as Arthur eased him down onto a rock to rest. They had been traveling for a few hours now and both needed a break. While Merlin adjusted himself on the rock, panting slightly, Arthur took the opportunity to stretch his tight back muscles.

He then knelt down to inspect Merlin's leg only to have his hand batted away. "It's fine, Arthur."

The King merely glared. "With your propensity for lying, Merlin, I think I prefer to check it out myself."

Involuntarily Merlin flinched and his eyes skittered to the side.

"Sorry. That didn't quite come out the way I meant."

"It's okay, Sire."

Arthur inspected the injured limb, rubbing his chin. "It's still pretty swollen and feels little warm to the touch but not hot. The bleeding appears to have stopped though. How does it feel?"

Merlin shrugged. "Like a boulder fell on it." He eased his pant leg down, grimacing. The numbing spell was wearing off and in truth his leg throbbed as if on fire.

He saw the worried frown on Arthur's face appear, and as a distraction, fumbled for the water skin laced about his shoulders, offering it to Arthur. "You should drink, Sire."

Arthur accepted it but only took a small swig before handing it back and making sure Merlin did the same. Re-corking the skin, Merlin asked. "How far are we to Camelot's borders?"

"Hard to say. Another day, maybe." He looked around the woods. "I need to get a baring again." He pointed to a rise not too far away where a group of boulder rose up amongst the trees. "We should be close the Northern Valley. Wait here while I check things out."

"We should stay together, Arthur."

"I won't be long, just wait here."

Merlin sighed and nodded. While Arthur was gone the warlock hovered his hands over his injured leg and whispered an incantation. His eyes flashed briefly. He felt the numbing effect wash over the limb again and sighed in relief. It wasn't as effective as the first time he had done it, but as least it had dulled the pain to a manageable level.

Merlin waited, but after about ten minutes and Arthur hadn't returned, he started to worry. Another few minutes passed and his worry turned into full-blown anxiety. Ignoring the King's command, and muttering under his breath about stubborn Royal Prats wondering off, Merlin got up with every intention of finding Arthur's royal arse only to fall to the ground in an undignified heap as he tried to put full weight on his leg.

Cursing, he looked around for something to use to help support him and found a branch about six feet long several feet away. More or less crawling, he retrieved it, and then awkwardly struggled back up to his feet.

He scrambled up the rise and hadn't gotten far after reaching the top when he heard the distinct sound of swords clashing. Hobbling as fast as he could, Merlin reached a small clearing to find Arthur engaged in a battle with at least six Saxon soldiers. As he watched, Arthur drove his sword into one, felling him instantly only to have to duck as another sword sliced through the air nearly beheading him.

Arthur yanked his sword free and with a twist of his arm arced Excalibur to block the thrust of another sword coming at him.

The warlock wasted no time and with a thrust of his hand and a flash of gold in his eyes he sent the two Saxons closest to Arthur flying in opposite directions. Another flash of gold sent a third into a tree. Arthur, more evenly matched easily took out another.

Off to his right, Merlin saw three more Saxons quickly racing up an incline to join the fight. He turned, concentrating on the tree limb above and his eyes flashed again. The branch cracked in half, sending the limb plummeting down onto the group of men.

Merlin again turned his attention back to Arthur only to hear Arthur shout. "Merlin, look out!"

The warlock barely had time to react as a spiked mace descended towards him. Instinctively he raised the stick he'd been using to hobble with up to block the blow. The mace split the stick in two and the momentum sent Merlin stumbling backwards over an exposed stump. He landed awkwardly onto his back, his injured leg shooting pain up through his thigh as it caught on the edges of the rotting wood. The mace, an instant later, hit the tree next to him, splintering the wood just inches from his face.

Momentarily distracted by the agonizing pain, the warlock was unable to focus his magic fast enough as the Saxon ripped the mace from the tree and drew it back for another swing. The downward thrust never came though as suddenly the soldier's eyes widened into a startled gape and he fell over, an axe sticking out of his back.

The surprised warlock rose up on his elbows to see Arthur standing a few yards away, two additional Saxons lying at his feet. The King was at his side almost instantly, hoisting him up and slinging Merlin's arm over his shoulder.

"Come on. We need to get out of here!"

Arthur was practically dragging Merlin along, his injured leg almost useless. Merlin could only bite back on the pain and focus on trying to keep upright as he allowed Arthur to whisk them away. As they made their way across a slightly sloping hill, Merlin's legs gave out from underneath him and the sudden disproportion of body weight on the incline pulled them both over. They slid several feet down and Merlin had to force back a yelp as Arthur landed on top of him.

They could hear several Saxons shouting in the distance.

Arthur grabbed Merlin and dragged him behind a tree. Panting, the warlock peered around and noticed the obvious trail they had left behind when they slid down the hill. With a flash of gold he quickly covered the trail with leaves just as they spotted two Saxons breaking through the trees. They paused at the top of the hill looking closely at the ground.

Sweating profusely against the pain, Merlin eyes flashed again hurling a nearby rock the size of his fist across the way into the thickets in the opposite direction from where they were hiding. Immediately the two Saxons headed off in that direction.

Once the Saxons were out of sight, Arthur hauled the warlock back up on his feet and then to Merlin's utter surprise and embarrassment flung him up and over his shoulder.

"Arthur! Put me down! I can walk."

"Shut up, Merlin!" the King retorted, ignoring the warlock's protests, refusing to put him down again until he was sure they were a safe distance away.

He finally eased Merlin down against a tree. Arthur knelt on one knee panting heavily from their flight. Merlin scanned the area with his magic but couldn't see anyone. "I think you lost them, Sire."

Arthur nodded, relieved, then plopped down next to his servant, their shoulders touching.

King turned his face to the warlock, his mouth splitting into a tired grin, his eyes sparkling, oddly, with merriment. He then let out a small chuckle and clapped his gloved hand onto Merlin's bent knee.

"We make a good team, Merlin. You and I. Even if you are a clumsy, hapless idiot."

The warlock returned the grin. "That we do, Sire. Even if you are an arrogant, supercilious prat."

...

In order to avoid the large group of Saxons that Arthur had inadvertently stumbled upon camped at the edge of the valley, it meant the two men were forced to find another way around, which unfortunately lead them to their next obstacle.

Merlin stared at Arthur with an utter look of disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"

The warlock was peering down the side of the cliff at the thirty odd foot drop into the chasm below. He saw the look on the King's face again, that same confident smugness that had Merlin in the past jumping across an icy crevasses and scaling enemy towers after him.

"No, Arthur. There's no way."

"It's either this or the Saxons back there."

"Do I get a choice?"

Arthur tipped his head pompously. "Uh...No." He then went over and started inspecting the ledge, looking for a possible way down.

Merlin hobbled after him. "Arthur, I can barely walk. How do you expect me to climb down a bloody cliff!"

Arthur peered over his shoulder. "Don't suppose you can levitate yourself?"

"Very funny."

Arthur smirked. "Just thought I'd ask."

The warlock crossed his arms, brows furrowed. "You know, Arthur. I'm not so sure I like this new freethinking Arthur when it comes to my magic. You're a bit scary."

"Says the warlock who transforms himself into an old man and wipes out half an army." He stood back up and walked back over to the servant. "And by the way, Merlin, what kind of ridiculous name is _Dragoon _anyway?"

Merlin snorted. "It was a spur of the moment decision."

Arthur shoved a pointed finger into Merlin's chest. "Well. Just so we are clear, I haven't forgotten your insolent, surly and insulting manner, _Dragoon_."

"It was all just part of the disguise, Sire. You shouldn't take it personally."

It was then something seemed to click in Arthur and his face suddenly morphed from the bantering tease just moments before to something more serious and solemn.

"Arthur, what is it?" Merlin asked, suddenly concerned.

"My father..." the King said quietly, his eyes lifting to met those of his servant's.

Merlin's face suddenly fell, crestfallen knowing exactly what the King was thinking. He reached out wanting to touch Arthur but pulled back, uncertain.

"Arthur, I..." Suddenly his voiced choked as the old guilt assaulted him.

Arthur watched Merlin's reaction, saw the devastation enter his eyes and that lost uncertainty again before his eyes dropped guiltily away.

When Merlin tried to step back, the King reached out and placed his hand firmly on Merlin's shoulder. "As the old sorcerer, you really did try to save my father's life that night, didn't you, Merlin?"

Merlin looked up, nodding. "I'm so sorry, Arthur, I..."

"I'm sorry too, but grateful that you would go to such lengths to try."

The warlock looked at his King, his friend stunned. There was no accusation, no anger, no blame, just acceptance.

"He was your father, Arthur, and you loved him."

The King needed no explanation, no details, no validation to believe those simply words spoken and to again understand the lengths of Merlin's loyalty.

Arthur's hand moved from Merlin's shoulder to his neck and he gave a small squeeze along with a nod of his head. Merlin understood the gesture and smiled, the weight carried over his part in Uther's death finally lessening.

For Merlin it was unnecessary to divulge the entire truth surrounding Uther's death, of Morganna's part, probably with Aggravaine's help, of slipping the pendant around Uther's neck that had reversed the healing spell he had cast with ten times the suffering affect. Uther's death had been painful enough for Arthur and though Merlin felt no love loss for the former king, he didn't feel the necessity to twist the knife any deeper in Arthur by adding Morganna's sick deception to the painful memory.

"So does this mean you forgive me, Sire, for forcing you to carry Dragoon all throughout the castle?"

The King's lip curled into a prattish smile, easily slipping back into their earlier banter. "No. Although I fail to see much difference as I am once again forced to lug your useless, boney hid about. Although I must say, the beard was a bit of an improvement."

...

"Arthur. Are you sure about this?" Merlin asked, looking down with more than a little trepidation at drop below.

Arthur, already at the bottom, was rolling his eyes. "Quit being a girl, Merlin. We haven't got all day."

"How do I know this thing isn't going to snap halfway down?" Merlin whined looking at the long twisted vine currently wrapped around a tree with one end tied in a loop about his waist while the remaining lengths were coiled about Arthur's feet.

Said vine was actually several vines twisted together with a little help from Merlin's magic into one extremely long piece of rope.

Arthur was griping a section of the vine. "I made it down easy enough."

Merlin huffed. "That because you are a show off, you prat, and born to do ridiculous stuff like this!"

"Merlin, I swear if you don't get you ass off that ledge, I will yank you down myself!"

And Merlin knew Arthur would to.

He took one last look over the edge. God he hated heights and wished he _did _know a bloody spell that could either levitate or simply transport him down.

With a sigh, Merlin forced himself over the edge and immediately felt himself drop then spin about.

"Grab the wall, Merlin! Try and balance yourself."

"I'm trying!" Merlin grappled for a hold, the earthen wall crumbling beneath his fingertips. Finally he was able to latch onto a root sticking out the side. Once steady, he used his good leg and arms to both balance and brace himself.

"Now just move slowly while I release the slack and guide you down."

Merlin nodded trying to awkwardly maneuver his way down. Loose earth showered down on Arthur as Merlin angled downward while Arthur steadily released the slack inch by inch.

At one point the vine snagged on something and as Merlin tried to free it, he suddenly dropped several feet. He closed his eyes, fearing the line had snapped only to find himself dangled about twelve feet above Arthur who still had a firm grip on the vine.

When he finally reached the bottom, he was greeted by a smug look and a firm clap on the shoulder that made Merlin wince.

Arthur coiled the vine up and they then followed the chasm some way until they were able to find a suitable way back up and out. With the help of Merlin's magic to wrap the same vine around another tree limb above, Arthur helped Merlin struggle up the steep slope to the top. Once up, both flopped on their backs exhausted.

**TBC...**

**please let me know what you think. More bromance chaps coming soon :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Ok, so this chap I am not totally happy with but it does have bromance, light hearted and some serious with a dash of creative liberty. Hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 7**

They made camp again that night. Both were exhausted and Merlin's leg wasn't looking a whole lot better, his ankle still swollen and a motley shade of bruises standing out against the pale skin. Luckily it didn't appear to be infected, thanks to his own magic instinctually working or the healing paste.

They finished up the rest of the boar's meat plus some berries Arthur managed to forage and then sat shoulder to shoulder leaning up against a log in front of the fire with Merlin's leg propped as comfortably as possible.

The sky was clear, the air chilly, but not so much that the discomfort wasn't easily dispelled by the warmth of the fire.

There was a companionable togetherness, sitting side by side to the warlock, one Arthur found fit just right.

With a little regal (Merlin would call it prattish) prompting, Arthur was able to get Merlin to open up a little bit more about his past.

"It's hard to know really where to begin, Arthur."

"Just start at the beginning and we'll work our way through."

"You realize this could take a while?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

So Arthur listened as Merlin shared some of his early experiences using magic in Camelot, the first happening the very same day he arrived by saving Gauis from a near fatal fall from the balcony in the physician's chambers and later stopping the sorceress disguised as Lady Helen from killing Arthur, only to be "rewarded" for his efforts by Uther making him Arthur's manservant.

"Somehow the idea of washing your smelly socks didn't sound like much of a reward," Merlin scoffed.

"I'll have you know being the manservant to a member of the royal family is quite an honorable position."

"To some, maybe, but you forget, I actually _met_ your former servant, and believe me, he was more than happy to give up the job. Even a bootlicker like George can only tolerate you for so long."

"I'm not _that_ bad."

"Why do you think he tells brass jokes, Arthur?"

"I don't know." The King huffed. "Maybe because he's completely _boring_."

"It's his stress reduction mechanism. You make him uptight. Do you ever notice the little twitch in his left eye at the end of the day? It's very subtle," the warlock teased. "Of course I will admit you have mellowed a bit, Sire, since marrying Gwen. At least the kitchen staff isn't drawing straws anymore over who will have to serve you when I am unavailable."

Arthur crossed his arms. "You make me sound like a horrible beast, Merlin."

"No, that was your stepmother," the warlock snickered.

The King's scowled.

"What? I was only trying to point out that I _did_ try to warn you and if you had only listened….Ow!" Merlin rubbed his arm where Arthur socked him.

"We agreed we weren't going to talk about that incident again," the King reminded him.

Merlin cleared his throat while trying to hide the smile. "Right. Sorry."

Merlin then told Arthur about discovering the snakes in Valiant's shield and learning one of his first spells to force them out during the tournament. The spell had been very difficult and he'd stayed up all night practicing it on the statue of a dog.

Unfortunately he'd never been able to figure out how to turn the dog back. The next few days had turned into an adventure that had cost Merlin his best shirt, a neckerchief, a pair of Gauis' slippers and Merlin's bed, not to mention the fact said dog had nearly destroyed Cook's kitchen and terrorized the staff.

Arthur vaguely remembered the beast. "That was _your _dog?"

"Well, technically, I suppose."

"That _thing _compromised my best pure bred blood hound!"

"In retrospect I probably should have practiced on something smaller," Merlin admitted.

Luckily they had found a local farmer in need of a good guard dog to keep foxes and thieves from stealing his chickens; much to Gauis' welcomed relief.

Merlin's tone then became a little quieter, a little more solemn as he went on to tell Arthur what had really happened in Ealdor when he, Morganna and Gwen went back to help free Merlin's village from the band of renegades terrorizing them. Arthur was already guessing what Merlin was about to say.

"It was you, wasn't it, Merlin, that created the windstorm? And your friend took the blame."

Merlin nodded.

"Will was a good friend. The first one I ever, truly had," Merlin confessed fondly with still a hint of deep sadness in his voice over Will's death. "As kids we used to get into so much trouble, especially after he discovered I had magic."

"Where there others, Merlin, besides Gauis who knew about your magic?"

"Well, the Druids, though they kept that knowledge hidden from everyone, and oh, Lancelot."

"Lancelot? You told Lancelot?"

Merlin shrugged a bit sheepish. "He sort of figured it out after overhearing me enchanting his lance to kill the griffin. It was one of the reasons he wouldn't accept the knighthood. He didn't think he had earned it, plus he didn't want to come between you and your father. He did keep in touch with me over the years after he left though, just to let me know where he was if I ever needed him."

After Lancelot had returned and helped Arthur rescue his father, Arthur had knighted him, along with Gwaine, Elyan and Percival. Four men, none of nobility, had become, along with Leon his most loyal and trusted inner circle of knights.

Yet, Arthur couldn't help have a sense of envy that Lancelot had known, had figured Merlin's secret out before him. In hindsight, it explained some things though.

First was Merlin's and Lancelot's unusually close friendship. Not that he wasn't close to the other knights, particularly Gwaine, it was just that Arthur had always sensed a certain protectiveness about the quiet knight towards Merlin like he was keeping an especially close eye on him for some reason.

Second, when they were on patrol, sometimes Lancelot and Merlin would drift away from group to talk quietly only for both to clam up immediately whenever Arthur or anyone else came near. Sometimes Arthur had even caught Lancelot throwing Merlin odd disapproving looks only to be met by sheepish glances. This, Arthur, realized, usually followed a skirmish with a large group of bandits in which the knights would be outnumbered but still managed to come out on top.

Arthur now guessed why.

After witnessing Merlin's use of magic on the last group of Saxons, Arthur had no doubt Merlin had done the same thing many times before with only Lancelot being "privvy" to his aid and Merlin had probably done something "stupid" that may have gotten himself caught.

As for Lancelot, Arthur still had mixed feelings towards the knight who had nobly sacrificed himself to seal the veil, but had nearly destroyed his relationship with Gwen when he made a miraculous return from the dead and seduced her.

Merlin could easily read the thoughts churning in Arthur's mind. It had been a turbulent, painful time in Arthur's life, and though he had long since forgiven Gwen, the King would truly never forget.

Merlin's face morphed into sadness and he felt compelled to at last lay to rest any final doubts Arthur harbored against Lancelot's or Gwen's good names.

"It wasn't really Lancelot's or Gwen's fault, Arthur, what happened back then. It wasn't Lancelot who really returned from the dead, Sire. At least not willingly." **(*)**

Arthur frowned deeply. "What do you mean?"

Merlin then went on to explain how Lancelot had been returned as a Shade, a slave of Dark Magic, forced to do the bidding of his master. Only a powerful sorcerer, such as a High Priestess, would have had the power to summon forth such a dark spell.

"Morgana." Arthur replied.

Merlin nodded. The Lancelot who had returned was just a shell of the noble knight, his spirit trapped and forced to obey.

"Why did you never tell me?"

"Would you really have believed me then, Sire? After all, it wasn't so much Lancelot's betrayal that hurt so deeply but Gwen's."

Sadly Arthur knew this was true. The hurt caused by Gwen's betrayal had left him so bitter, scared and angry he would not have listened to anyone.

"I also believe that whatever dark magic Morganna used to conjure Lancelot from the grave influenced Gwen too. She would have never betrayed you otherwise, Sire. She loves you too much."

"Thank you, Merlin, for telling me."

"Lancelot was a good friend and a loyal knight. Before I laid him to rest I was able to use my magic to free his spirit."

This left Arthur both amazed and gladdened for Lancelot even as he thought back to that dark time.

He remembered how truly, utterly remorseful and equally devastated Gwen had been when Arthur had banished her. After being reunited and she had helped reclaim Camelot, she had still offered to leave rather than to cause him more pain. But he couldn't accept that, not after he had seen the love in her eyes, a love that match the need in his own. He just couldn't lose her again.

It was what had made Guinevere's recent ordeal ten times worse in the guilt she suffered.

There had been many tear-filled nights when Arthur just held her and she clung to him desperately, like a soul drowning. It had been heartbreaking to watch Guinevere come to terms with all that she had done under Morganna's dark enchantment. Yet even as terrible as it was, somehow it made her and their love all the stronger in the end.

At his side she become a fierce and loyal Queen, more than any born into the role by nobility. Her eyes had glittered with a strength and a deviance like no other, and Arthur knew that if anything should ever happen to him, Guinevere would be the Queen Camelot needed.

"I never hated Morganna more than after she did that to Gwen. There was just nothing left of the old Morganna."

"I know, Arthur. And I have to take some of the blame for what she became."

"Merlin..."

"No, Arthur. It's true. I-I knew about Morganna's magic long before she turned to Morgause, yet did nothing to help her." He replied sadly.

Arthur just sat and listened.

"The nightmares she used to have, the ones Gauis tried to suppress with the sleeping draughts, were the first manifestations of her magic. She was a Seer, but didn't understand and the dreams frightened her."

"In the beginning she was just looking for someone to understand her, but I couldn't tell her about my me, about my magic because of my destiny to protect you, to keep my magic hidden from everyone. There were so many times I wanted to tell her, yet I didn't. Maybe if I had she wouldn't have turned to Morgause in the first place."

"You really think that?"

Merlin shrugged. "I don't know. Knowing one's Destiny is a double-edged sword. On the one side it gave me a purpose for my magic and has helped me protect you and Camelot. On the other it's often made me wonder if the choices I made because of my knowledge simply created the path Destiny took."

It was one of those paradoxes that he would always be troubled by. How much had Destiny really played in Morganna's downfall and how much had Merlin's actions and choices simply caused it?

Merlin bowed his head, for the next part was the hardest to reconcile with. "Poisoning Morganna didn't help."

"What?" Arthur was astonished.

Merlin stared at his hands, shamefaced. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I wish to God it was a choice I never had to make."

Again Arthur witnessed the utter despair and loathing pouring out of Merlin and the King suspected this was one of the "certain...things" the warlock had eluded to earlier.

"What happened, Merlin?" Arthur asked quietly. There was no accusation, no anger or blame in the question, just a need to understand and to allow the warlock to share a burden Arthur could clearly see weighed heavily on the young man's shoulders.

Slowly, haltingly Merlin opened up and told Arthur the truth about the spell Morgause had cast putting all of Camelot to sleep, while she and the knights of Medir rode in to kill Uther. The spell required an anchor though and Morgause had used Morganna.

"It was the reason Morganna was the only one awake. At first I thought it was because her magic was making her immune, but then I started getting sleepy too. And Morganna was acting strangely. I finally put it together, though in truth I doubt Morganna had fully realized what Morgause had done."

Arthur nodded, remembering the scared and confused look on Morganna's face, but even then, he too had felt she was hiding something.

"When a spell requires an anchor to maintain it, one way to break it is to destroy the vessel. I'm sorry, Arthur. I tried everything I knew but we were running out of time. I knew you couldn't fight the knights of Medir off alone and that my magic wouldn't be enough to stop them."

"So you poisoned Morganna to break the spell."

Merlin nodded.

No matter how much time past Merlin would never forget the look of betrayal and utter fear in Morganna's eyes as she realized just what he had done. It had broken his heart even as he tried to gather her up in his arms and comfort her. That day he really had felt like a monster.

"When Morgause had burst into the room, I forced her hand, told her I would only tell her what poison I had used if she released the spell first. She agreed then took Morganna with her and in doing so began the path of Morganna's transformation."

Arthur could see the deep regret in the young warlock's eyes. It, along with his guilt, seemed to make him look much older than his years. He hated to see Merlin look that way, for in truth, if the roles had been reversed and it had been Arthur's decision he was not so sure he wouldn't, God help him, make the same choice to save his father and his kingdom.

The King thought long and hard about Morganna and the truths that existed long before he found out she really was his sister.

"Morganna was always headstrong, Merlin, even before her father was killed and she came to live with us as my father's ward. She hated it initially and was always butting heads with me and especially my father. She seemed to revel in annoying him. She was always someone who knew what she wanted too and no one could tell her differently. To be honest, Merlin, telling her about your magic may not have made much of a difference in the end."

Merlin glanced up. "How do you mean?"

Arthur sighed. "As much as I loved those spirited qualities in Morganna that challenged my father, in many ways she was too much like him, stubborn and unyielding. No one really could have changed Morganna's direction unless she wanted to go there in the first place. Maybe knowing about your magic would have made a difference for a while, but Morgause was her sister and a High Preistess. Knowing how things stood with my father and his stance and hatred against magic, Morganna probably would have been drawn to her anyway."

"Perhaps."

"As much as it pains me to say, in the end, Morganna made her own choices, Merlin, and you can't carry the weight of that choice the rest of your life. I don't want you to. Neither of us can change the past. We can only move forward."

**TBC...**

**Phew! Glad I finally was able to finish that chap. That one took a while to sort through and balance out. Hopefully it flowed okay. **

**AN: (*) I did write a one scene short some time ago that could be considered a companion piece to this story about Merlin freeing Lancelot's spirit if you are interested in reading it. It's called. _"Farewell, Sir Lancelot."_**

**And about Gwaine-just to keep the info to canon: Only Merlin knows he was born of nobility and neither is aware what happened to Gwaine yet (which is another bit I DIDN'T like in the final episode and has already got my plot bunnies tweaking (no promises)**

**And always, thanks so much for those that read the story and left a review. You know we all like to get them ;) It's our candy, lol. **

**I have one or two more chaps left to this fic and hopefully will finish this up so I can concentrate on a few other still left hanging and a third I've been plugging away at but haven't decided if I will post it yet...Thanks BSG**


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for the alert for those who already read this...Just fixing some errors that were bugging me. I'm sure there are probably a few more so I apologize now for my lousy proofreading.**

**This is sorta part II of their bromance chat. It's a bit of a read and packed with "stuff" but hopefully I managed to make it flow alright with a few creative additions. I appreciate ALL the positive feedback from reviews and emails I got on the last chap which was very helpful in writing this one. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 8**

The evening continued, yet neither was ready to call it a night. Arthur added another log to the fire and settled back down next to Merlin, eager to hear more, until Merlin decided to share what _really _happened between Arthur and Sophia, and later with the Lady Vivian.

The warlock seemed quite amused to recount some of the fuzzier details Arthur hadn't been able to remember, including his elopement with Sophia, and his declarations of undying love to the horribly spoilt Princess Vivian.

It had come as a bit of a shock to the learn the sweet Sophia and her father were really Sidhe looking for a prince to drown to regain Sophia's immortality back into Avalon.

And the Lady Vivian...Arthur groaned. "Please don't remind me! She still writes me letters!"

Poor girl. Apparently vexed by the same love potion as Arthur, they had never found a way to completely break the enchantment on the princess who remained quite besotted with Arthur.

"Luckily Gwen knows the truth and is a _very _understanding wife, or I day say, Sire, you would have been in a lot more trouble after that last gift you received on your birthday a few years ago from the Lady Vivian." Merlin added with a glint to his eye.

Arthur flushed uncomfortably and glared at Merlin at the memory. The afore mentioned…gift, a lacey "unmentionable" scented heavily in perfume, had caused quite the arched eyebrow on Gauis and a humorous snicker from Merlin as Gwen simply stared, arms crossed, at her new husband in question.

Merlin still remembered the lump he received on the back of his head from the goblet Arthur had thrown at him at him later.

The only thing more embarrassing, mainly because Arthur actually remembered _every little _detail, was the goblin escapade. The magical being had possessed Gauis and caused mayhem throughout the castle. It had not only made Uther bald but had caused a rather embarrassing incident of flatulence in the thrown room in front of an entire court. Later it had knocked Arthur out and when he'd come to, the prince had the ears of a donkey and was braying like an ass! He'd been mortified in front of Guinevere and even after they had caught the creature and secured it back in the lead lined box it apparently had escaped from, it still had taken _days _to completely reverse the braying in front on his knights during practice.

"I don't suppose you have any idea how the Goblin _really _got out?" Arthur asked.

"Not at all, Sire," Merlin answered trying to maintain a straight face, which only made Arthur frown.

"What?" Merlin asked.

"I don't know." Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly. "You just have a look about you I am beginning to recognize..._Shifty_."

"I don't know what you mean, Sire," Merlin denied though he was sure his ears were burning red.

"Hmmmm."

The other part of the goblin incident was that Merlin had been accused of sorcery. It had only been the exposure of the goblin as the real culprit that had saved Merlin's life. Arthur shuddered to think what could have nearly happened.

It hadn't been the first time Merlin had been accused of sorcery either, remembering the first time when the kingdom had been plagued with a deadly disease and a closer call with the Witch Finder, Aridean.

"So Aridean, did he really know about your magic?"

Merlin shrugged. "He was paid to catch sorcerers. It didn't really matter to him if they were actual or not. He may have guessed. All I know is that he knew Gauis practiced healing magic before the Great Purge and that Gauis had never approved of Aridean's practices or trusted the man. The only reason Gauis confessed was he was trying to protect me."

"I was the one that conjured the smoke. It was stupid, I know. I was feeling lonely and very depressed about my life. It was just meant to be a bit of fun. Fun that nearly cost Gauis' life. The rest, Aridean made up I swear. It was only with Gwen's help I was able to prove it though."

Merlin didn't have to say anymore. Arthur had never cared for Aridean, especially after seeing the way he could so easily manipulate his father, praying on Uther's fears and obsessions against magic and intimidating everyone with fear.

It was only a few months after that incident that Merlin had met Freya, but Freya was something Merlin couldn't quite share with Arthur just yet. One day he would, perhaps, but as much as the warlock wanted to be open with Arthur, some memories were just too painful to want to drudge up again.

Eventhough Merlin had only known the Druid girl for those few short days, he had felt an instant connection with her. Freya had been everything to him. It wasn't just her plight he had been drawn to, but he had sensed a loneliness and a need to be loved and accepted that match his own. He only wished he could have saved her, but like Balinor, she was still there, still in his heart and in his magic.

Arthur felt the melancholy washing over his friend but misinterpreted the complete cause, his thoughts again on how much the warlock had to hide of himself to survive. In many ways it probably had been a lonely life for the warlock, never able to truly share the deepest part of himslef. He was grateful Merlin at least had Gauis.

Arthur crossed his arms and settled back a little more against the log, crossing his legs at the ankles. "I have a feeling I could sit here all night listening to your tales and still not hear most of them."

"Probably, Sire." Merlin agreed, smiling.

There was a quiet space in the flow of conversation as each seemed to drift away in their own thoughts.

For Arthur, he was again thinking of all Merlin had done despite the fears he must have felt at either failing or being caught out. Over the years his servant had faced many things with him, dangers even his strongest knights would have been intimidated by. And Arthur _had_ seen Merlin afraid, and did sometimes tease him about it too, but truth be told, he had always been proud of his servant for standing with him.

It was Arthur who finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, Merlin, for calling you a coward, you know, when you refused to come with me to Camlann. I know you are and never have been a coward about anything."

"I _was _afraid, Arthur, more scared than I had ever been before, not about facing the battle, or even dying, but about not being able to help. The real reason I couldn't come with you was because I had lost my magic and I was trying to find a way to get it back in time."

This took Arthur by surprise.

Merlin explained it had been only a matter of time before Morganna retaliated against him once she found out it was he protecting Arthur with magic.

"How did she know, find out?"

"From Mordred. You forget, he used to be a Druid." Merlin went onto explain. "Modred had always known from the beginning who I was and Morganna knew _someone _powerful was protecting you, she just didn't who, as I only ever appeared to her in the form of the old sorceerer, Emrys."

It had been a dangerous game of cat and mouse to keep Merlin's identity as Emrys hidden, one that had nearly cost Gauis' life.

"Emrys?" Arthur had heard that name before from Morgann's lips in the caves of Ismere right before Modred had stabbed her and then rescued him.

"It's the name the Druids call me."

"Well, I must say, that's more interesting than _Dragoon_."

Merlin chuckled.

"So what are you to the Druids, Merlin, their _king _or something?" Arthur mused.

Merlin snorted. "Hardly. They just knew about the prophecy of one day Albion being united by Emrys and the Once and Future King, which, if you haven't figured that bit out yet, is you."

"There was also a prophecy about Morganna and Mordred one day joining forces and it would be by Modred's hand that you fell. It was this I was trying to prevent, but it happened anyway."

"So all this time you knew Modred would betray me too." Arthur sighed. "I was a fool to believe him."

"In the beginning I think Modred probably was sincere, Sire, but because of the prophecy I could never fully trust him or let my guard down."

"And you were right."

Merlin shrugged. It was one of those Destiny paradox things again. How much of Merlin's mistrust and suspicion had added to Mordred's downfall and how much had it been Modred's own pre-defined path. On the outside the young man seemed genuine and sincere in his efforts to prove himself, but beneath he was often closed and difficult to read. Merlin supposed he would never really know.

The warlock looked at Arthur and could easy read his own self-doubts. "You did what your heart believed to be honorable and right with Modred. Despite my own reservations, you gave him every opportunity to prove his loyalty to you. That's what makes you different from your father and a better king, to always try and find the good in something rather than to condemn."

"And sometimes that just makes me more foolish," Arthur replied thinking back to Aggravaine and how easily his uncle had fooled him too.

"It's not your fault others choose to betray you. That's why I'm here, to try and watch your back. Gauis too. But it is those same qualities in you, Arthur, that have helped bring about peace, as it did with Queen Annis and even with Odin. You could have easily slain him, let your hate rule your head, but you didn't. You chose to make the first step to try and end the feud between the two of you."

That was true. Since Odin and Morganna's attempt to lure Arthur into a trap using Princess Mithian had failed and the tables turned, Odin had withdrawn his forces and even agreed to Arthur's degree to give the lands of Nimeth back to their rightful king.

It had been Merlin's words that had intervened and stopped Arthur from the final sweep of his sword after clearly winning the single challenged combat.

_Arthur. Stop...Think about what you're doing...What good with this achieve?...How many times have you talked about uniting this land?...Will killing this man make that dream any closer?_

Merlin was right of course. It was not the answer. For either King to die by the other's hand would have only resulted in war and more bloodshed as each army of knights would seek revenge on the other. It had taken some time to convince Odin to agree to a truce, binding their kingdoms to peace.

Arthur still didn't know if it was going to work. "Odin is stubborn and will always blame me for his son's death."

"But he's not a fool either. You didn't bow down to him, Arthur. You simply gave him a choice. To end it or risk more bloodshed between both your peoples."

Arthur digested this. Only time would truly tell. Queen Annis had proven to be a strong ally but the relations with Odin were still very strained. Odin _had _done as Arthur asked though and withdrawn from Nimeth and restored Rodor to the thrown. He had not joined forces with Morganna either when she and the Saxons tried to bring about Camelot's downfall at Camlann.

He still didn't trust Odin, but it was at least a start.

It was really the one thing Arthur had to his advantage right now, that none of the other five major kingdoms were any more inclined to let the Saxons gain greater footing on their lands than they already had. Queen Annis had already pledged her support in this and so far the strength of her army had kept the Saxons from being able to invade from the West.

King Rodor had also allied with Camelot, with Princess Mithian at his side, promising not to retaliate against Odin for invading Nimeth's lands so long as he maintained the truce with Arthur.

Overall, it was a tenuous truce at best, but one that was holding for now.

Arthur then realized he had been totally sidetracked from his original question about Merlin's magic and brought the topic back around, eager to hear the answer.

"So, Merlin. How exactly _did _you lose your magic?"

Merlin then told him about the slug like creature that had attacked him the night he had come back from playing with Arthur and the knights down at the tavern. He had no doubt who had sent it. He was drunk and the creature caught him unaware and devoured his magic. He had gone to the Crystal Caves in hopes of getting it back.

But Morganna was there, and defenseless against her, she had sealed him up in the caves. There was bleakness in his voice believing that he had truly failed in his duty.

Arthur listened fascinated as Merlin then spoke of Balinor appearing. Whether the dragonlord had been real or in spirit, it hadn't mattered but his father had stayed at Merlin's side, calming him and explaining that no amount of power could every truly remove his magic.

Merlin just didn't _have_ magic. He _was_ magic. It was immortally interwoven into the very fabric of his being.

Merlin wasn't sure he could then adequately put into words what he experienced next, but he tried his best as Arthur listened intently, mesmerized.

When Merlin had entered the Crystal Cave, the crystals seemed to respond to his presence. They glowed and pulsated like thousands of tiny beating hearts. The earth beneath his feet warmed and it seemed to speak to him, not in a language of words, but something far more ancient, as old as the earth itself, as if it recognized its kin and welcomed him.

It was a similar feeling he had felt with Kilgarrah, when they were connected, and also in the presence of Balinor earlier, but on a far, far deeper, and richer level.

It was magic itself, in it's purest form. It seemed to pour into him from every one of his senses. He could _taste _its earthy sweetness, _feel _its warmth, _hear _its ancient hum and _see _its radiant light.

It seeped into his body, spread throughout until he could actually _feel _it coursing through his blood. It was warm and familiar, bright and brilliant. And for a moment he hung there, in the light. He floated and felt his past, present and future all swirling around him.

There had been images too, of he and Arthur and so many others, hundreds, thousands, and echoes and cries and the light responding in a kaleidoscope of colors around him. It felt like the light was both a storm raging about him and molten iron settling into him. The magic consumed his senses completely until he simply knew no more.

When he became aware again he was alone, lying on the floor of the cave as if he had fallen asleep for a long, long time and just woken up.

He remembered rising to his knees and looking around, uncertain. He hadn't felt anything for a moment but then something brushed against his mind. When he cupped his hands, felt his eyes flash gold and released the butterfly, it was the most joyous feeling Merlin every remembered feeling.

The warlock smiled at Arthur. "And just like that, I had it back."

Arthur was truly stunned, amazed only for Merlin to also add. "It was why I couldn't accept your death, Arthur, not then and there, because I knew there was more to us. That we weren't done yet."

"Did you see something in our future, Merlin?"

"No, and I don't need to. My purpose will always be to serve you, Arthur, and I will be happy to do that till the day I die, no matter what the future holds."

**TBC...**

**A/N: Okay, so what did you all think of this last chap? I wasn't totally happy with all the transitions. It may have been a bit dry but hopefully it flowed. Reviews appreciated. BSG**


	9. Chapter 9

**Final chap! Thank you everyone for the last reviews. Hope you enjoy the final installment and excuse any typos.**

**Chapter 9**

The next morning Arthur woke before Merlin. Letting the warlock sleep, Arthur rekindled the fire that had died out and sat thinking of everything Merlin had revealed to him.

It still left him amazed. He was also sure there was still a lot more he probably didn't know about his friend, but the underlying thread throughout the whole evening was still the same. Merlin had done all these things for him because he believed in Arthur and the future he would create and had a hope that one day Arthur's beliefs about magic would change.

Looking back there had been so many opportunities over the years where Merlin could have easily manipulated him into accepting magic, but he never had. He had simply just been Merlin, servant and friend on the outside, warlock and secret protector on the inside.

It was as if he wanted Arthur to come to his own conclusions and beliefs about magic rather than being forced into accepting them like it had felt with the Disir's ultimatum.

Arthur even remembered asking Merlin's advice about allowing magic back into Camelot in order to save young Modred's life and Merlin's answer.

_There is no place in Camelot for magic._

In Arthur's mind he pictured the look on Merlin's face when he had said those words. There had been an emotion there he hadn't been able to fathom until now.

Despair with a hint of hopelessness.

After learning about the prophecy surrounding Modred though, Arthur had no doubt Merlin had said those words out of a sense of duty to try and protect him, but how those words must have hurt too. And worse yet, had he believed them?

In all the years he had known Merlin, the warlock had always put Arthur first and allowed him to make the final decision. Sure, he would speak his mind, whine, be blunt or disagree but he always gave Arthur the final choice and then stood by his side, no matter the fallout.

With all his power, Arthur supposed, the warlock could have easily chosen to rule by force had it been his desire as Morganna had done, but Merlin's choice had always been to serve Arthur, whether that was in the role of a simple manservant, a true friend and adviser, or secret magical protector.

It was something Arthur felt proud of and humbled by.

...

By Arthur's rough calculations they still had several hours journey before reaching Camelot's borders and so with reluctance he roused the warlock.

The first thing he did once Merlin was awake was to check his servant's leg. It was still pretty swollen and bruised. The dressing was dirty and needed to be changed but there was little they could do about that right now.

They had little water left and no food and a long walk to go still.

Helping Merlin to his feet, he allowed the warlock to lean on him, and the two, like the day before, set off. It soon became apparent though that Merlin was hardly able to put any weight at all on his leg as the two continued to struggle up and down the hilly terrain and through the thick forest.

When Merlin's leg completely gave out, Arthur only just managed prevent falling on top of him as Merlin collapsed and pulled Arthur down with him. Merlin let out a hiss of pain before clamping his mouth shut again.

"I'm all right, Arthur." He told him even as the warlock sat, clutching his injured appendage.

"Sure you are, Merlin."

Arthur sighed. It appeared there was only one choice left as he gripped Merlin's arm and pulled him back up to his feet then hefted the startled warlock onto his shoulder and started walking.

"Your boney hide is going to leave bruises all over me by the time we get back to Camelot," Arthur complained.

"This isn't exactly comfortable for me either, Sire," Merlin whined, blood rushing to his head.

Arthur's chainmail and armor continued to rub against him, not to mention Arthur's hand was digging uncomfortably into his upper thigh with a combination of pain and being tickled. His only view for the last hour was the swinging ground below him and Arthur's backside. It was one thing, Merlin realized, to be lugged over someone's shoulder if one was unconscious, but totally another and downright embarrassing when one was with it.

"This is getting to be a habit with you," Arthur grunted.

"Sorry, Sire," Merlin retorted as Arthur's shoulder plate dug into a rib.

His servant, though still mostly thin and gangly, had surprising gained a _bit _of mass over the years he had known him, almost to the extend Arthur could profess to see a some definition to his upper torso. In normal circumstances he would still not be considered heavy by any means, but after an hour or so of carrying him, even Arthur began to feel the weight taxing him.

Arthur traversed up an incline, panting slightly. "Don't worry, Merlin. I have every intention of making you pay for this."

"I'm sure you will think of something. What is it going to be? Polishing the whole army's boots again or mucking out the stables for the next six weeks?"

"You are not getting off that lightly, Merlin."

"Then what?" Merlin sounded a bit worried and Arthur grinned even as sweat poured down his face under his burden.

"When we get back, _you _get to break the news to Guinevere about having magic _and hiding it _from her all these years."

Merlin's eyes widened. "Uh...Couldn't you just tell her, Arthur? I mean you are the King and she is _your _wife."

"Oh-No. I couldn't possible deny you that pleasure."

"I'm not afraid of Gwen, you know," Merlin huffed.

"Keep telling yourself that, Merlin."

The warlock bit his lip in worry. Would Gwen really be that upset? Could she even accept him? Would she hate him?

Arthur suddenly hefted him onto his shoulder a little more to adjust his weight causing him to bite his lip.

"Aw!"

Merlin reached up and fingered his bruised flesh glaring at Arthur's back. He could _feel _the prat grinning.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you, Arthur?"

"More than you can possibly know."

Merlin sighed, dropping his head against Arthur's back.

The King eventually had to take a break.

Merlin propped himself up on his elbows on the ground where he had been plopped while Arthur stretched out his back and rolled his aching shoulders. Sitting up, Merlin handed him the last of their water.

Arthur took in the lay of the land, suddenly frowning and scratching his head.

"Are we lost?"

"Don't be stupid, Merlin. Of course we're not lost. Unlike you, I do have a sense of direction." He stretched his arm out. "We simply need to continue southwest, towards the Valley of the Kings."

Merlin groaned. No. Not the Valley of the Kings. He hated the Valley of the Kings.

"Are you serious? Nothing ever good happens there, you know that."

"Stop being such a girl, Merlin."

The warlock huffed. In Merlin's opinion it should really be renamed the Valley of the DEAD Kings and their stupid servants forced to follow them!

After resting for a while longer, Arthur helped Merlin back to his feet. About to protest about having to be flung over Arthur's shoulder again, he stopped as he saw Arthur gaping and then just stood there blinking.

"What?" Merlin asked and turned to see what had drawn his attention.

At the edge of the tree line, before them the unicorn stood.

With it's white coat gleaming in the sun, and its horn protruding gracefully, it stood gazing at the two surprised men a long time, neither afraid or aggressive. The unicorn turned, walked a few feet away, and then stopped, swiveling its head back and simply waited.

"What do you suppose it wants?" Arthur asked.

Merlin shrugged. "My guess, it wants us to follow it."

The unicorn continued to watch the two.

"O-kay. Well, after _everything else _that has happened magically to me in the last several days, sure, why not just follow the unicorn? Makes perfect sense!"

Merlin chuckled. "That's the spirit, Arthur."

The King simply rolled his eyes and slung the warlock's arm about his shoulder and wrapped his arm around Merlin's waist.

The unicorn led them through a grove of moss covered trees and to a slow flowing brook and there, to their utter astonishment two horses stood, saddled and grazing lazily under the shady bows. And they weren't just _any _two horses, they both realized. They were _their _horses!

Arthur laughed deeply. "I don't believe it!"

Merlin was also grinning, staring at the two horses that look none worse for ware. He happily half hobbled, half hopped over to his own. It reared its head up and Merlin stroked the mare's neck. The gentle horse, affectionately named Tilly, responded in kind, snorting into Merlin's hair.

"I thought I had lost you, girl!"

Arthur retrieved the reins of his own horse that pranced spiritedly about, recognizing its master.

"But how?" He asked, then simply shook his head, not really wanting to work it out. "Never mind."

Merlin gazed at the unicorn that stood majestically at the edge of the small clearing. "Thank you, my friend. For your help."

The unicorn inclined its head slightly before kicking the ground with its front hoof and then trotted away disappearing into the woods and leaving the King gaping.

Merlin was smiling again. "Look, Arthur. All our supplies are still here!" From one of the satchels attached to his horse, the warlock pulled out his bag of medical supplies that included some clean bandages and dried herbs.

He hobbled over to the nearby stream and set about cleaning and changing the bandages on his leg, and then using the herbs, made another healing paste which he smeared over the wound.

While he was doing that, Arthur had riffled through his own packs and withdrew a clean tunic, then stripping down to the waist, scrubbed his face and neck free of the sweat and grime, before putting the tunic on.

From another satchel, Arthur pulled out some dried meat and cheese, and both men hungrily ate. Once satisfied he helped Merlin mount his horse before getting up onto his own.

They traveled for some time until they found themselves on a steep switchback trail that led down into the Valley of the Kings. They had to take the switchback very slow, riding single file along the narrow ridge. Merlin glanced nervously over the side as pebbles, kicked loose by the horse's hooves, tumbled down out of sight.

Once they reached the bottom they found themselves in an area of thick, nearly black forest unsurprisingly referred to as the "Black Forest."

It was a place in the Valley of the Kings few men ventured into with just reason. Here the canopy of trees grew high and close together, blocking out most of the sun and a thin layer of heavy mist seemed to always hang on the ground giving the area an eeriness to it.

It was quiet and only the sound of the padded steps of the horses broke the silence, which did little to comfort the nervous warlock, who remained skittish as he sat straight in the saddle, his head turning frequently back and forth.

Arthur, riding in the led, glanced back. "What's the matter, Merlin?" He teased. "Afraid of trees and a little fog?"

"It's not the trees or the fog I am worried about, Arthur," the warlock grumbled. "Couldn't we have simply gone around this valley? I mean seriously, how many times do we need to tempt fate?"

"It's not that bad."

"Oh, no? Name one time we've haven't gone into the Valley of the Kings and _something _didn't happen!"

"Well, you do have a point, but it's not like we have many options if we are going to get back to Camelot anytime soon."

Merlin sighed. Even if Arthur did have a point, it didn't mean the warlock had to like it.

Throughout the ride Merlin's magic was humming and finally the warlock abruptly brought them to a halt. "Wait, Arthur."

"What is it?"

"I think there's something up ahead."

What they found was an encampment, though it looked like it was clearly deserted. The first thing they noticed as they approached were strips of cloth hanging from several tree branches.

Cautiously they entered. Arthur dismounted to look around while Merlin chose to steadfastly remain on his horse with a guarded look on his face.

There wasn't much, a few lean-twos and a small hut made of branches and sticks, half collapsed. And all about, it had the air of abandonment.

The King toed the ashes of a fire that looked long since used and found a piece of a clay pot in the remaines. He picked it out, fingering the uniquely scrolled design on it before handing it up to Merlin to examine.

Merlin recognized it immediately. "This was a Druid camp."

"Are you sure?"

Merlin nodded, perplexed and not sure why the Druids would want to camp here, but then again there were still many mysteries to the peaceful yet secretive clan of people that the warlock had never figured out.

Arthur's eyes scanned the area again. "Looks like they fled, but I see no evidence of a battle."

The king then noticed a marker at the far end of the encampment near a stand of trees where the mist seemed to be more concentrated and appeared to ebb and flow in the shadows.

The marker stood about two feet high and was made of stones carefully placed with some sort of staff protruding from it with a hexagon shaped top piece wrapped in more colored cloth with an intricate webbed design made of thin vines in the center.

As Merlin stared at it, he felt his magic tingle, but not in a good way. A heaviness seemed to pervade the whole area.

"We should leave this place, Arthur."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure. But that marker and these strips of cloths were left here for a reason, perhaps as a message or a warning."

Arthur ran a hand lightly over one of the strips hanging off a nearby branch. "Best leave things undisturbed, Sire." Merlin warned.

The King dropped his hand, for once heeding the warlock's advice. "Is this another one of your funny feelings again, Merlin?"

"You could say that."

Arthur tossed the piece of broken pottery back into the ashes just as he found it and without further argument, for once, remounted. The two rode out in silence, but remained wary.

From the edges of the trees where the shadows were deepest and where the fog seemed to collect, Merlin thought he saw something, a movement, a shape. First one, and then another.

Both horses' ears perked up and Tilly pranced nervously beneath him.

"Arthur."

"I know, just keep moving and stay close," the King replied.

Merlin closed the distance between them and brought his magic up to the surface, close to his skin, and then allowed it to span outward, increasing his awareness.

What he felt made him uneasy. He could sense it, the presence of Dark Magic and worse he felt it could sense him.

"We need to move away from here, Arthur, _now_."

Arthur heard the urgency in the warlock's voice and didn't falter. He kicked his horse into a gallop and Merlin followed closely behind. For an instant the woods grew even darker as if trying to swallow them up.

Merlin felt something reaching out, whipping against his right side, and nearly unsaddling him. His magic instinctively reacted to the contact as if repelled. As he felt his eyes turn gold, a burst of light erupted forth causing whatever it was to shriek and withdraw quickly away.

Arthur startled a look back, but Merlin simply urged him to move faster.

They rode hard until they were finally out from under the dark canopy of trees and Merlin's magic settled.

Arthur reined his horse to a stop and turned about. "What the hell was that?"

"I don't know but whatever it was, it's full of Dark Magic."

It was then Arthur noticed the warlock looked a little paler than normal and seemed to be listing slightly in the saddle, his left arm wrapped around and gripping his right side.

Arthur quickly maneuvered his horse until he was side to side with his servant.

"What happened? Are you all right?"

"It's nothing. Just a sting." Merlin said but his grimace said otherwise.

Arthur reached over and brushed Merlin's hand aside and forced his shirt up. Merlin tried to protest only for his hand batted away.

Against the warlock's pale skin, a large, very angry red welt about an inch wide and about twelve inches long ran down Merlin's flank, a fist width above his ribcage and down across his side. It looked like Merlin had been cat whipped and a nasty bruise was already forming around the welted strip of skin.

As Arthur probe for anything broken, Merlin swatted at his hand. "Ow! Will you stop that! You're making it hurt worse by poking at it." He tugged his shirt down. "It's fine, Arthur, just leave it alone."

The King complied yet remained displeased. "It, whatever it was, attacked you."

"Well, it _tried _to but my magic instinctively reacted. Thankfully, whatever it was, recoiled away to wherever it came from." The warlock shifted uncomfortably, and then huffed. "Now can we _please _get the hell out of the Valley of the Kings, Sire? I _really _hate this place."

Arthur smirked and shook his head at the irritated warlock.

...

Four hours later Arthur and Merlin crested the rise. In the distance the white graceful walls and towers of Camelot peaked above the trees. It stood pristine, solid and regal in the late afternoon light.

"It's a beautiful sight, Sire."

"That it is, Merlin. That it is."

As the King kicked his horse to move forward, Merlin spoke. "Arthur, wait."

"What is it?"

Merlin shifted in his saddle and Arthur noticed he looked small and suddenly uncertain again. "Arthur. Are you sure about this?"

Arthur frowned. "About what?"

"About me. Returning to Camelot."

"What _are _you babbling about?"

"Well, it's just that we never really talked about it. I mean, what you intend to do with me, now that you know I have magic."

This actually surprised Arthur as he realized Merlin was right. They had talked about _a lot _of things but not that.

The warlock's head bowed and he suddenly seemed to take a keen interest in the pummel of his saddle. "What I mean to say is Arthur, whatever your decision, I will abide by it."

"Is that so?"

Merlin looked up, straightening his back, as if preparing himself.

The King's eyes narrowed as he observed his servant. "So, Merlin, if I decided to throw you in the dungeons and toss away the key, banish you or _worse_ for lying to me, deceiving me and practicing sorcery under my nose all these years, you're saying you would simply accept my decree?"

"Yes, Sire."

Arthur examined his servant's reactions studiously. He saw the way his shoulders slumped just a little, how he wouldn't quite look at him, even the fine tremor of hands tightening on the pummel. He read the hope in his body language, but it was also mixed with fear and lingering guilt.

And the truth of matter was Merlin _had _lied to him and deceived him all these years and now Arthur finally knew everything, the whole truth. The King's manservant was a _sorcerer_, and not just any sorcerer, but a warlock and a powerful one at that, a magic-born user in the heart of a kingdom that still banned its practice and feared its use.

And still his servant sat there and waited.

"Are you always going to be this much of an idiot, Merlin?"

The warlock's eyes snapped back up, blinking "Huh?"

"After all that you've done, do you _really _think so little of me, that I would condemn you or cast you aside?" There was real anger in Arthur's voice now and Merlin cringed.

"I...No. Of course not! I...It's just well...you will be breaking your own decrees."

Arthur held his head up, gazing at his Kingdom as if really contemplating Merlin's words. "I suppose I will."

By the very Laws of Camelot, Arthur _would _be breaking his own decrees in allowing Merlin even to return, yet, the warlock had still sat there, willingly and waiting for Arthur to make the final decision, a decision that would seal his fate no matter what it might be.

The King's sigh was deep and long. "I am not my father, Merlin."

"I know that."

"He was wrong to do what he did, to persecute based on his own fears and hatred rather than just cause, to condemn magic users simply because they existed."

It saddened Arthur to know that Uther's convictions had not and would not ever change, unwilling to let the legacy he had so carefully built and Arthur inherited crumble before him even in death.

"My father's actions left my kingdom and the lands around it and even my people divided. I meant what I said about wanting to unite the lands so that my people, _all _my people can live in peace."

"It won't be easy though and I also know I can't do it alone. There is so much I still don't know, still don't understand about magic, Merlin, and even though I am not my father, I am not so naive as to simply think lifting the bans will fix everything."

"My father created a lot of enemies, enemies that would still be happy to see Camelot's downfall. I have also seen too much of what sorcery is capable of in the hearts of those that hate. It can be a dangerous weapon, but like any other, it must be tempered in justice."

"I don't disagree with you, Arthur. Like everything else, magic is a matter of balance."

Where there was dark there was light and where there was love there was also hate. Merlin had also seen and felt both.

"You have always been at my side, Merlin, offering your advice even if I didn't want it or was unwilling to listen to it. And I can't promise you I can change things overnight. A lifetime of prejudice and fear will take time to overcome. But what I will promise you, Merlin, even if it takes me a lifetime to achieve it, I want to change the legacy my father created."

"I can ask for no more, Arthur. I know the road ahead will not be easy, but am willing to stand by your side to help you, like always, no matter the outcome."

"Even if I fail?"

"You won't."

"How can you be so sure?"

The warlock simply smiled. "Because you're Arthur."

The King just shook his head at his servant's unwavering belief.

"Come on you idiot, let's go home. There's work to be done." He kicked his horse to move forward. "As soon as we get back I'll need a hot bath drawn, my clothes washed, my armor cleaned and repaired, my boots polished, my horse attended to..."

Merlin gaped. "You expect me to do all that with an injured leg I can barely walk on?"

Arthur glanced over, smirking. "Well you are still my servant, aren't you?"

"I thought you were going to give me two days off." Merlin whined.

"I don't recall saying that."

"You did, when you were dying," the warlock argued.

"I must have been delusional."

Merlin glared. "Arthur, if you think..."

"However, the more I think about it, I think I will just dismiss you instead."

"What? You're sacking me?"

"Well I can't expect my Court Sorcerer to be mucking out my stables and serving me meals, can I? Not that you were ever any good at it."

Merlin gaped. "Court Sorcerer?"

Arthur shrugged his shoulders. "Well, technically Court Advisor, for now, at least until we can work out a policy to start lifting some of the bans on magic, so put that on your list as well as the speeches you'll need to write me."

Merlin's head was still spinning but he recognized the familiar banter. "Do I get a say in any of this?"

"No, not really. You're stuck with me, Merlin."

The warlock smiled. "I could think of worse."

"Good, because I already have an idea for your new uniform befitting your new station." Arthur was eyeing Merlin with an amused look that made the warlock decidedly wary.

"If it involves a pointy hat, you can just forget it, Arthur!"

And so the banter continued all the way back to Camelot as the sun started to set and tomorrow would be the dawn of a new day for a Destiny, a Warlock and a King.

**The End!**

**A/N: Wow, I can't believe I actually finished this in a timely manner. What a fun journey this was to write and I hope everyone enjoyed the read and hopefully felt I did justice this the AU series ending that left many of us just wanting something different. I really tried hard to stay true to the characters and honor the series we all loved. **

**Reviews would be appreciated as I would love to hear your opinion and feedback on my version of the series ending. **

**I have a lot of plot bunnies for other ideas to continue the story but I thought this would be an appropriate place to end it here. **

**Arthurian legend is full of different tales and events clouded in folklore and debates about whether King Arthur was a myth or a real person. Though many of the tales speak of Arthur meeting his fall at Camlann, there are some that talk about him dying later in some other battle. But that's the fun of fan fiction too, to expand on the legends we love and in my AU story I would like to think my version could make sense and stay true to some of the legends, as Arthur did technically fall at Mordered's hand.**

**I also like to try and tie up loose threads, but m****ostly I just love writing bromance fiction and studying the characters, want makes them tick and what makes their relationships and their bonds so strong. **

**Anyway, thank you all for reading and taking the time to review, for your emails and encouragements. I'm always a little sad to see a story completed, but relieved to. Now maybe I can focus on finishing a few others, lol.**

**Thxs - BSG :)**


End file.
